The Rebellion of King Alistair
by eruestansurana
Summary: For four years, King Alistair with the help of his wife and his best friend has ruled Ferelden. However, when Anora stages a palace coup, all this changes...
1. The Hidden King

Storms howled around Circle Tower. Chilled, Eruestan Surana pulled away from the window where he had been staring at the waves on Lake Calenhad.

"Andraste's grace, it's cold!" he exclaimed to his assistant Neyla.

She looked at him sternly. "Ser, your ears!"

Startled, Eruestan's hands flew to his ear-tips, which were freezing cold – literally. Throwing the accumulated frost into the fireplace, he groaned and said "Why does this ALWAYS happen to me?!"

Neyla smiled sympathetically. "You'd think the First Enchanter would remember his own ears, but then again…"

Eruestan kicked a pile of books. "Here I am, the Hero of Ferelden, Arl of Amaranthine, former Chancellor to the True King, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, and I'm the only elf I've ever met whose ears freeze over!"

Neyla paled. "Ser, be more cautious! You never know who could be listening!"

Annoyed, Eruestan sat down at his desk. Yes, Neyla was right: he did have to be careful. It wasn't safe nowadays to mention your loyalties to the old regime. Not with the usurper Anora cutting off the heads of her enemies – which was now anyone who entertained the thought of reinstating the Therin line.

Thinking brought back memories, though. It was impossible to believe that at this time a year ago, he had been living in the palace at Denerim, helping his best friends rule their country. Then there was the coup, and Alistair was missing, Rowena was imprisoned, and a dictator sat upon the throne.

But now, however, was NOT the time to be wallowing in self-pity. Times were too risky to try to test Anora. He himself did not know how he had gotten out alive. Visions of that night flashed through his mind. How he had been attacked by Anora's men in his bedchamber…How he somehow managed to stun them and escape…Running to reach the royal quarters to save his friends…Failing in his efforts…His escape to the Circle Tower. Anora had been furious to discover that not only the King but his right-hand man as well had escaped. She had ordered that the Templars slay him on the spot. Thank the Maker, both the Grand Cleric and First Enchanter Irving had been staunch supporters of the Therin line, and they had staunchly refused. Not wanting to offend both the Magi and the Chantry, Anora had backed down with one final warning – leave the Tower, lose your life.

Then Irving died, and everything changed.

Even though Eruestan hadn't lived at the Tower in five years, on his deathbed Irving named him the next First Enchanter. Granted, Eruestan was the best mage the Tower had instructed in decades, but still – it wasn't exactly expected.

But he wasn't complaining. He now had immunity from Anora.

Oh, and power. Power was good too.

Neyla gave an impatient sigh. "Ser, I know how important your reveries are to you, but really, you need to read these documents!"

"Right, right!"

However, tonight was not going to be the night for business. A knock on the door put an end to all this. A thin red-haired man dressed in mage robes walked in.

"Ser, a stranger wishes to stay the night at the Tower."

Eruestan's forehead furrowed. People normally avoided magi like the plague. "Send him in, Cedric. If he's up to no good, we'll soon find out."

Cedric returned, leading a young man whose face was covered by a cloak. _He looks very suspicious_, Eruestan frowned. _Almost like he's hiding something._

Rising from his desk, he approached the stranger. "Please forgive us our suspicions. We do not often have guests at the Tower, and with the current political situation…"

The stranger bowed. "If I were not for the storm, my lord, I wouldn't have trespassed on your kindness, but I'm afraid the weather is too bad for me or my horse." His voice was strange – too deep to be humanly possible. Confused, Eruestan began to wonder if maybe Anora was checking up on him.

"Please, take off your cloak. It's a little hot in here, I'm afraid – the staff went overboard in their attempts to heat the place."

The man stiffened. "Thank you, Ser, but I'd rather not. I was…er…h-horribly disfigured during the Blight. I wouldn't want to bother you fine folk."

Alarmed, Eruestan performed a silent spell to reveal who this stranger might be. Images began to float into his brain. He saw the world through this man's eyes, seeing the event of the past few weeks. His hands tended a strong horse, fought off a pair of bandits, rescued a family from a burning house, and began to wash themselves…However, before Eruestan could see the face those hands belonged to, the memories vanished. A mental block like an iron wall prevented him from seeing any further.

Yet he was satisfied. Anora wouldn't have the patience to give a man weeks to perform her dirty work, and he was clearly not the type to sell information. Smiling, Eruestan gave his hand to the other man.

"Please, make yourself at home. The Tower would be happy to have you as a guest for the night."

The other man bowed again. "Then you are as kind as they say. Thank you, my lord."

A young apprentice appeared in the doorway and whispered something into Cedric's ear. Importantly, the mage stood up and announced, "Dinner is waiting for you, First Enchanter."

Neyla stood up impatiently. "But Ser! The documents!"

Eruestan's stomach growled. He smiled ruefully at her. With a death glare, she muttered something about doing them herself and sat down in the corner. With the enticing smells of Ferelden cuisine wafting through the air, Eruestan practically flew up the stairs to the Great Hall.

After performing the necessary ceremonies before each meal at the Circle, Eruestan sat back down at the table and turned to his guest. "I must say, stranger, your appearance has caused quite a stir here."

"Has it?"

"Well, considering you're the first outsider we've had in a long while that wasn't an abomination, it's no wonder!"

The stranger looked at the Templar table. "Is that why the knights look so uncomfortable?"

"No," Eruestan said, smiling. "The knights have looked like that for about a week now, after a lesser spirit appeared in their dormitories."

The stranger looked up, stricken. "Was anyone killed?"

"Oh, no! No, this spirit was more interested in throwing the Templar's small clothes about the room."

"From what I know of Templars, that really doesn't answer my question," the stranger joked.

Eruestan laughed. Silence ensued as the two began to stuff their faces. After finally sating his appetite, Eruestan leaned back and sighed. "Nothing like a good meal of Ferelden blandness to ease the mind." His face fell into more serious lines as he stood and raised his glass. The voices chattering throughout the Hall hushed.

"To the future of Ferelden," he thundered. All the other mages murmured the same and drank.

As he sat down, the stranger turned to him curiously. "What did you mean by that?"

Eruestan looked at him gravely. "Surely you agree that Ferelden is facing dark times."

The stranger stared at the table. "Only because that weak Therin bastard couldn't hold his own throne," he said with contempt.

Eruestan's eyes flashed. Caution was thrown to the wayside in the face of a challenge to his friends. His voice resounded like the sound of steel on stone. "I will not tolerate treason in this Tower."

The stranger continued to glare at the table, his voice more bitter than before. "Treason? Ha! The idiot was never fit to be king in the first place!"

For a brief moment, Eruestan was sure that he was going to kill this traitor. How dare he defile the name of his best friend like this?! He went so far as to have the word of death on his tongue. However, he remembered where he was, and he retracted his emotions. Staring coldly at the stranger, he said, "Well, you're wrong. King Alistair represented all that was good in the Therin line. He was loyal, and brave, and true, and had one of the strongest moral compasses I've ever seen. He was – is – a great king."

The stranger's voice sounded funny. "You speak as though you know him."

Eruestan gave a harsh laugh. "Know him? Oh yes, I know him. I fought a damned Blight with him! I advised him for five years afterwards! I stood up for him at his wedding to the Queen! He is my trusted ally and my closest friend. Oh yes, I know him."

"You sound like you think he's still alive," the young man said with odd emotion (was it sadness?).

Eruestan stared at the man, hoping his dislike would drill a hole in his skull. "Alistair is not dead. Nor is he a great coward, as the Usurper would have you believe. I think he's waiting, trying to think of ways to get help without betraying his friends."

"His friends?"

"Why, yes, of course! He needs help, desperately."

"Because he's hopeless, right?" the stranger asked cruelly.

"No, not because he's hopeless!" Honestly, did this man _want_ to have his brains drawn out through his eyeballs? "Because of the Queen!"

"Oh, so he's a coward after all," the man said snidely.

"Not the _Usurper_, fool! Queen Rowena! She's still being held prisoner in Fort Drakon! King Alistair would NEVER do anything that would put his wife in the least bit of danger! And I hate to say it, but mounting a full-scale rebellion counts as putting Queen Rowena in danger!"

The man looked satisfied. "And who would those friends be? Who would be so foolish as to aide a deposed king?"

Eruestan thought for a moment. "Well, there'd be plenty, actually. The Teryn of Highever is Queen Rowena's brother, so Alistair could go there. He was raised by Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, so he would probably also go there as well. But Anora's been pretty stringent about security there, so I doubt he'd want to stay there for long – wouldn't want to implicate anyone. But from there…well, he'd probably turn to one of the Blightforce."

"The Blightforce?"

Eruestan smiled. "Yes, it was a name given to our team by…" (Painful memories gripped his mind) "by…one of the other members. So, he could go to Orzammar, to see the dwarf Oghren. Not likely, as Oghren mildly disgusted him. He could go to Amaranthine to get the aide of the mage Wynne. More likely, but Wynne is hard to find recently, and he'd feel obligated to protect her. Sten, the Qunari, is too far away, and as for the witch Morrigan…well, even if she hadn't vanished into the Frostbacks, he'd rather lick his own boot than seek out her help. Oh, and of course, there's me." There was one other, of course, but it hurt too much to think of her.

"Yes," the man said in a strangely familiar voice. "There's you."

Eruestan stopped in his tracks. Wonder, fear, and awe filled his mind to bursting. Disbelieving, he peered under the cloak's hood to see the stranger's face for the first time. Bright blue eyes and shiny blond hair stared back.

"Alistair," he breathed, and relief filled his entire soul.


	2. A Plan in the Making

Rumors flew across Circle Tower as the mages returned to their beds. Why had the First Enchanter left the Hall so abruptly with that stranger? Some hinted that it had to do with the woman who had abandoned him a few years ago – what was her name again? Others said that the stranger was an Antivan assassin sent by Queen Anora to kill Eruestan, only he discovered the plot in time and was now going to go kill the man. Whatever the reason, all the mages could agree on was one thing – it probably meant something bad in the future for the Circle.

What they _didn't _anticipate was what was going on in Eruestan's chambers. The mage was listening intently to Alistair's story of how he had escaped.

"…so I jumped out the window and tried to get to Rowena. But when I got there, they had already captured her. I went to go rescue her, but then Wynne appeared out of nowhere." Alistair looked incredulous. "She told me that it would be useless to try and save Rowena, that I'd only get captured if I tried, and that she wouldn't let me go if she had to fight me herself. I didn't listen. I ran forward, and I screamed Rowena's name. She turned around, thank the Maker, but when she saw me she screamed for me to run. Next thing I know, Wynne and I are fighting for our lives with about fifty of Anora's men. We managed to escape, but only barely. I tried to get back into Denerim to form a rescue, but Wynne refused to let me. So, I made her promise not to leave Rowena's side and said that I was going to get help. I've been riding around Ferelden ever since. My poor arse – I can hardly feel it anymore."

"So where have you been? Who's promised to help you?"

"Fergus Cousland, naturally, has pledged Highever's support – not that he can do much, with Anora breathing down his neck. Arl Eamon's the same way. As for everyone else…well, you're the first one I turned to."

Eruestan paled. "Alistair, you place too much trust in me," he said quietly.

"What do you mean? You're my best friend!" Alistair smiled. "Oh no, forgive me, my 'First Chancellor and Grand Premier.'"

Eruestan looked him straight in the eyes. "Alistair, it's my fault all this happened!"

Alistair looked at him oddly. "What do you mean?"

Eruestan sighed. He had played out this conversation many times in his mind. He just hoped he could remember what he had rehearsed. "Look, as your Chancellor, what were my duties?"

"Well, let's see…advise me…govern me…control my basic body functions – the easy stuff, right?"

"Alistair, I'm serious!" Eruestan looked sick. "I was supposed to watch out for you – to be your eyes and ears. To put my own emotions second to the state."

"Now see, I always thought that that was a little stupid. Why would I want some brain-washed mind-slave working for me?"

"Alistair! Focus!"

"Sorry."

"Right, well, anyway," Eruestan gathered his thoughts. "So like I said, I was supposed to watch for you."

"Which you did. Really well, actually."

"That's what you thought," Eruestan said sadly. "And for the first two years, yes, I did do my job well. Extraordinarily well, if I can say so. But then…well, you know…"

"Oh. Right."

An awkward silence filled the room. _Just the sort of silence she'd be able to fill_, Eruestan thought bitterly. Reluctantly, he let his mind go back to that awful day – the day his Leliana had left without saying goodbye.

_ Leliana_. Just her name made his heart pang. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld. She had hair the color of a setting sun, and large, soft-brown eyes that you could get lost in. Leliana was completely different from any girl Eruestan had ever met. She had this ability to see the light in anything – this combined with her insane abilities to kill. Eruestan had been intrigued with her from the beginning, but by the time the Blight had been squelched, he had fallen head-over-heels in love with her. He had thought she felt the same.

Boy was he wrong.

He woke up that terrible morning to find their bed empty. He had gotten so used to waking up to her lovely face that its absence made him feel a little funny. As he got up, he soon found that she was not in their palace quarters, nor were any of her things. Her longbow, her armor, her knives, her bag – everything missing.

For two months, he sat up every night, waiting for her to come home. She never did.

The blow was crippling. Eruestan began to ignore his duties. He would go into his office, lock the door, and stare at the wall for hours, not doing anything. For practically half a year, he did not eat, he did not drink, and he did not sleep. When the concerned Alistair and Rowena had tried to send him off to Weisshaupt Fortress in the Anderfels for a Grey Warden Summit, he flat-out refused, saying that he was done with the outside world for a while.

The world, however, was certainly not done with him. Just one month after his refusal, the coup was staged. His survival instincts kicked in from there.

He turned anguished eyes towards Alistair. "I am so, so sorry. I was your front line of defense, and I let you down. You trusted me with your life, and you nearly lost it. Because of my stupidity, Rowena's in prison, you're in hiding, and Anora is on the throne. I…I failed you, Alistair. Not just you, but Ferelden as well."

Alistair looked at him coldly. "I'll not have you speak about my greatest advisor like that," he said sternly.

"Maker's breath, Alistair, did you hear a word I just said--"

"No, it's my turn to talk now." Alistair looked him straight in the eye. "Now, look. I really appreciate how you're trying to blame all this on yourself – seriously, it's making me look really good – but I've been doing a lot of thinking since then, and I figure that it's all three of our faults. You are my Chancellor, Eruestan, not my bodyguard – you shouldn't have to think that you need to watch out for me all the time. So maybe you weren't as vigilant during those last few days before the revolt. Rowena and I certainly weren't. The palace guards definitely weren't. That's really all we did wrong. We got lazy, that's all."

"If you say so," Eruestan said doubtfully.

Neyla, who had been watching this conversation with an extremely astonished look on her face, timidly raised her hand.

"Yes, Neyla?" Eruestan said, distracted.

"Well, Ser, Y-your Majesty, I think it's great that you want to spend so much time talking about the past, but perhaps a better use of your time would be talking about the future." Her eyes fell to the floor. "Not that I'm criticizing or anything, Y-your M-majesty."

Alistair sighed. "You know, I was kinda getting used to not being called that anymore."

"She has a point, though," Eruestan said thoughtfully. "What _are_ we going to do? I mean, obviously you can't stay at the Tower for long, and seeing as both Highever and Redcliffe are under heavy watch by Anora's men…"

Neyla raised her hand again.

"You do realize that you're not in class or anything, right?"

"Habit, Ser. Anyway, I was thinking about all those stories you'd tell us about your adventures during the Blight, and how your team was unbeatable and that the eight of you could have conquered Ferelden. Well, Ser, why not test your theory?"

Eruestan raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we _reform_ the Blightforce? Neyla, have you hit your head? It'd be impossible! I can't see how…"

"I can," Alistair said thoughtfully. "I mean, they'd be the ones most likely to help, right? They'd also be the ones least likely to have been discovered by Anora. Sten's in Par Vollen, Wynne's hiding somewhere in Denerim, Oghren's in Orzammar, no one's seen Morrigan in five years, and as for Leliana..."

"We sure as hell haven't seen her around either," Eruestan finished brutally. "Well, I think you're forgetting two very important things. A. The main reason Anora would have trouble finding them is that THEY ARE PRACTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND! We don't have _time _to be running around Thedas trying to find people we haven't seen in years. B. Rowena. Even if we manage to find everyone out there somehow, the instant Anora gets word that we're collecting forces, Rowena will be put into danger. There's no doubt about it. Until we've freed Rowena, Anora will have us by the balls."

Neyla cleared her throat impatiently. "Ser, don't be ridiculous. There are simple solutions to your problems!"

Eruestan stared at her blankly. "There are?"

She began to look a little uncomfortable. "Well, you see, Ser, I'm not exactly saying this off the cuff. I've, uh, actually been planning this for quite a while. I don't like Anora just as much as you do, Ser, and I've always loved those stories about the Blight…so I kinda let my imagination get a little out of control."

"_You_ let something get out of control?"

"Very funny, Ser. Anyway, I've been doing some research over the past few months, and now that I've discovered where the King is, it's complete." Neyla reached into her robes and pulled out a piece of parchment that was revealed to be a map. "Mages from around Ferelden have been telling rumors for a while now, and I've pieced them together. Now, there were eight of you: you, Ser" (she pointed to a giant E written on Circle Tower), "Your Majesty," (an A freshly written next to the E), "and Queen Rowena" (an R written on Fort Drakon). "Now, someone said that a grey-haired woman was living above the Wonders of Thedas, and that he was pretty sure he had seen her doing magic. So that's probably Wynne. Your friend Oghren is definitely still in Orzammar, so it shouldn't be too hard to find him. Now, I can't be sure if this is the man you knew, but a woman near Highever says she was stopped for questioning by a group of Qunari warriors, and apparently the leader acted like he knew the both of you. So there's a start." She looked up from her paper. "These next two were, admittedly, a little harder to find."

"Morrigan," Alistair groaned.

"Leliana," Eruestan whispered.

Neyla nodded. "Well, apparently Enchanter Werlinda was staying at a Chantry in West Hills where she met this beautiful red-haired sister with the saddest brown eyes she had ever seen. The Revered Mother told her that the sister had never spoken a single word to them, not even to recite the Chant. Apparently the Mother hinted that this sister had some sort of terrible disgrace associated with her, but she wouldn't say anymore."

"That does sound like Leliana," Eruestan mused.

"Except for the no talking part," Alistair smiled.

"Well, you two haven't even heard the important part." Neyla looked smug. "Oh, you're really going to like this, Ser. According to Werlinda, this silent sister signs her name as Sister Surana."

Silence filled the room as hope filled Eruestan's heart. Was it possible that she still cared? Was it possible that this was even her? Oh, sweet Maker, a lead, finally!

"That's…fantastic," he grinned. "Outstanding, Neyla, just outstanding."

"Yes, well…" She seemed very proud of herself. "Oh! And the other woman, Morrigan."

"Are we sure we really _want_ to find her?" Alistair asked. "I mean, not that I don't like Morrigan or anything, it's just that I really, _really_ do not like her."

"Well, I don't think we have the option not to find her," Eruestan said, hopes deflating as he remembered the task before them. "Alistair, do you know the defenses surrounding Rowena?"

"No. I haven't heard anything about her. She could be dead for all I know." He sounded bitter, and even worse, hopeless.

"Well, she isn't," Eruestan said firmly. "I, too, have been watching out for her, and my men have let me know a few things about what's holding her in."

A spark lit in Alistair's eyes. "What've we got/"

Eruestan sighed. "About fifty guards, ten mages, another fifty archers…plus over one hundred anti-magic glyphs littering the room. Powerful glyphs, too. I doubt even I could get a spell across in there. We'd be killed on the spot."

"Then there's nothing we can do," Alistair snarled.

"No, _we_ can't do anything." Eruestan smiled. "But I think Morrigan can."

"What?!"

"Morrigan's a shapeshifter," Eruestan said quickly, "one of the only shapeshifters I've ever seen. It's a very…unique…brand of magic, and I doubt nothing those mages or those glyphs could do would affect her. I bet she's one of the only ways to get into Fort Drakon. I hate to say it, but we need her."

"She always did love Rowena," Alistair muttered.

"Neyla, where is she?" Eruestan asked his assistant urgently.

She winced. "You're not going to like this," she said quickly.

The elf looked down at the map, where a giant "M" was written right in the middle of the Frostback Mountains. "My ears!" he moaned.

Alistair gave a huge grin. "Not so eager to see her now, are ya?"


	3. Complications

The plan was brilliant in its simplicity.

Alistair left the next day, but instead of immediately taking off down the Imperial Highway, he waited in the Spoiled Princess, biding his time until Eruestan joined him. Meanwhile, Eruestan was busy announcing his journey to Orzammar to oversee the construction of the new Circle that was going on there. Neyla was to be in charge while he was away; NO ONE was to accompany him. Whispers throughout the tower hinted that he was going to join the rebel cause. Fortunately, in the few months he had been First Enchanter he had managed to win over many hearts, so the rumors died away quickly for fear of betraying him.

But within the week, Eruestan was out, and he and Alistair began their long ride to the Frostbacks. On foot, the journey took around two weeks – on horseback, they could expect to cut that time in half…a fact Alistair seemed unable to get over.

"I mean, really, if we had had horses during the Blight, we'd have killed the Archdemon in a week! Do you remember how long it took us to get to Denerim from Redcliffe? Three bloody weeks! Three! Sweet Maker!"

"Then again, I can't really see Oghren getting on a horse anytime soon."

"I guess that really depends on how sober he is," Alistair laughed. He smiled broadly. "You know, I really missed this."

"What?"

"This." He gestured to the open Bannorn. "Life on the road. Fresh air, adventure…all that stuff. I guess I just got a little bored at the palace, that's all."

Eruestan shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I think I missed it a little, bu-"

He was cut off as an arrow took out the horse beneath him.

"Bandits!" Alistair shouted, as about ten men and women poured out of the forest, all bearing full sets of armor and weapons.

"You miss the old days now?!" Eruestan shouted as he pulled out his magic staff.

"Actually, this does beat having tea with the Arlessa of Denerim," Alistair said dryly as he, too, pulled out his sword and shield.

The bandits formed a circle around the two friends. "I take one side, you take the other?" Eruestan muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Sounds like a plaaAAAANNNN!!" Alistair shouted, charging forward and blasting a bandit to his feet with his shield.

Smiling from the adrenaline rush, Eruestan concentrated his efforts into casting a sleep spell upon his opponents. With an extra burst of focus, Eruestan sent them flying back into the woods. He spun around to see if Alistair needed his help. Judging by the amount of bloody corpses and the fact that Alistair was crowing happily, it didn't appear to be so.

"That…was…awesome!" Alistair cheered.

"Definitely," Eruestan laughed. For a moment, the two weren't incredibly powerful warriors – they were just two 23-year-old's enjoying easy victory. It had been so long since they had fought side-by-side like that; all they needed now was Rowena and it really would feel like the Blight again.

_I guess I really do miss it_, Eruestan thought interestedly. _I haven't done magic like that in years. Not even the First Enchanter has that kind of freedom._ _I am a Grey Warden, after all – fighting's in my blood, literally_.

"Maferath's knickers, look at this!" Alistair swore, standing over the dead horse. "Right in the head. Not even your spirit healing could save him."

Eruestan bent over and whistled. It was a very clean shot. Alistair's horse, however, had managed to get out with only a little scratch on its leg. Eruestan muttered a Tevinter word and watched with satisfaction as the flesh sealed in front of him.

"So what are we gonna do now?" he asked. "'Cause I hate to break it to you, but I am not sharing a horse with you all the way to the Frostbacks."

"Awww, don't tell me we have to sell my horse!"

"Well, one of us could stay behind in the bandit-filled forest while the other braves the Frostback Mountains (and Morrigan) alone. Or we could sell the horse, get some sovereigns, and fight together. Your choice."

"B-but, it's m-my…oh, fine. It smells funny anyway."

"Oh." Eruestan looked embarrassed.

"What was tha-Maker's breath, you thought it was me?! Not this again!"

"Let's…just keep moving," Eruestan said hurriedly.

They made camp outside a small fishing village on the western shore of Lake Calenhad. As they ate around the fire, Alistair looked uneasily about.

"Would you stop doing that?" Eruestan asked, irritated. "You're making me uncomfortable."

"It's just…weird, isn't it? Camp was always so…_loud_."

"Well, we have a considerably lesser amount of people—"

"I know, I know; it's just odd, that's all. I mean, normally, Oghren would be getting so drunk he'd be pissing ale at this point. The dogs would be barking their arses off, Morrigan would be arguing with someone, you and Wynne would be trying to keep the peace, Sten would be creeping us all out, Rowena," (he stopped for a moment) "Rowena would probably be laughing at something, and Leli—" He stopped suddenly, blushed, and wolfed down the rest of his food.

_Here we go again_, Eruestan thought wearily. For months at the palace after Leliana had left, Alistair and Rowena had walked on tenterhooks around him, careful not to say anything that might "send him over the edge." At first, he was so sure she was going to show up again that he didn't pay them any attention…but as time went by, and as he realized that she wasn't coming back, he came to despise their efforts to make him forget.

He could never forget. He had fallen too hard for that.

Alistair snapped his fingers. Eruestan jumped and refocused his eyes.

"Jeez, that Neyla-what's-her-name wasn't kidding about you and your reveries," he muttered, going back to his stew.

Suddenly, two male voices drifted over the hills, speaking an odd language. Eruestan's eyes widened.

"Hide! And don't do anything!" he hissed at Alistair, panicked.

Confused, Alistair went inside the tent and waited. Sounds of horses soon accompanied the voices – were they Orlesian? Suddenly, the sound of horses erupted onto the scene. He heard Eruestan clear his throat.

"_Messieurs chevaliers_," his friend said calmly. "_Je peux vous aider?_"

Alistair retreated back into the tent. Chevaliers! In Ferelden? He fingered his sword. Then he remembered what Eruestan had asked him to do, so he waited. However, at the first sign of any trouble…

"_Nous voyageons __à__ Denerim_," one of the chevaliers said. "_Savez-vous o__ù__ on peut trouver la route á partir d'ici?_"

"_Non, je n'y suis jamais aller_," Eruestan said sadly. "_Je suis tr__è__s désolé."_

"_Et, avez-vous vu le roi, monsieur?_"

"_Le roi? Mais, c'est la Reine Anora qui r__è__gne."_

There was a great commotion outside the tent. Eruestan gave a great cry and fell with a thud into the tent. Alistair jumped up, furious, but Eruestan jumped up and held him back.

"Don't…move…" he whispered.

The sound of hooves faded off into the distance.

Alistair spun around. "What the hell was that?! Were those _chevaliers_? What are they doing in Ferelden? And where did you learn to speak Orlesian?"

Eruestan stared at him. "You don't _know_?!" he shouted, incredulous.

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough – what the hell is going on?!!"

"Maker's breath, Alistair, you told me you were traveling, not that you had been under a rock for the past year!"

Alistair paled. "Are we being invaded by the Orlesians?"

Eruestan sighed. "Well, technically, no, although many people would beg to differ…"

"What do you mean by, 'technically'?"

"Because technically, Anora invited them."

Alistair stared at him. "WHAT?!"

"Believe me, that's what I said," Eruestan muttered. "Oh, come on, though, you don't think she led that revolt with solely Ferelden citizens?"

"Well, yes!"

"Ok, Alistair, I'm going to say this slowly, and I really want you to pay attention: people LIKE YOU. You were a GOOD KING, because people LIKED YOU. You are a VERY LIKEABLE PERSON. Fereldens don't forget that. So, instead of taking her chances with the people, Anora turned to Orlais, Antiva, and the Anderfels for mercenaries."

Alistair looked away. "How many? For how long?" he said quietly.

"Troops have been pouring in the whole time," Eruestan said wearily. "Estimates at the Tower believe that their numbers are anywhere between ten-to-twenty-thousand."

Alistair sank to his knees. "What have the people said about this?"

"Nothing," Eruestan said bitterly. "Alistair, they're frightened. Anora has tightened up Denerim so much that news from the capitol is entirely based on rumor and hearsay. What people are hearing isn't good. Every day, Anora executes more and more 'traitors.' They say the heads outside the palace are piled so high they can almost reach over the walls."

"Maker," Alistair breathed, a look of horror spreading across his face. "This is…_not good_."

"Don't lose hope." Eruestan's voice was firm and comforting. "For every Orlesian mercenary Anora has, you know there are three Fereldens willing to fight him for you."

Alistair stared at him.

"Well, at least _I _know there are," Eruestan said irritably.

"How can you say that?" Alistair said miserably. "I let them down. They relied on me to keep them independent, and I couldn't even stay on the throne long enough to ensure it." He took a deep breath and stared at his friend. "Eruestan, can we do this?"

"Andraste's Grace, Alistair, we haven't even started!"

"Exactly," Alistair said. "I need to know whether or not this is going to put innocent people in unnecessary danger. I need to know if we can win. I refuse to let Ferelden suffer for my throne. So tell me: can we do this?"

Eruestan stared off into the distance, thinking. Was it possible? Could they gather forces strong enough to fight off thousands of chevaliers? Then he remembered what country he lived in.

He sat down next to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yes," he said simply.

Alistair looked at him closely, and then swiftly relaxed. "Alright then," he said calmly. "I think it's time we went to sleep."

"Right," Eruestan said quickly. "We've got a long walk ahead of us."

Alistair laughed half-heartedly, and then quickly held up his hand. "Eruestan," he said quietly, "thank you."

The elf nodded. But as he lay awake that night, thinking of what the future might bring, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he wasn't as right as he thought he was.


	4. A Broken Promise

_Eruestan was back at Circle Tower, running along the long, curved hallways. In the distance, musical laughter enticed him to come further. However, the faster he ran, the longer the hallway became. The laughter grew louder, and louder, and the hall grew longer, and longer._

"_I'm so close," he said to himself, concentrating. "Just need to keep—"_

_With an extra burst of concentration, he found himself at the end of the corridor with the door to the First Enchanter's office right in front of him. The musical voice was now calling his name. _

'_I'm coming," he murmured. "Don't…go…"_

_He flung open the door – only to reveal a giant abyss. The musical laughter stopped, and the walls and floor disappeared. Suddenly, he was falling, without any hope of ever reaching the bottom…_

"NOOOOOOO!" Eruestan screamed as he jolted out of sleep. Across from him, Alistair sky-rocketed out of bed and grabbed his sword.

"What is it?" he said, swinging his weapon about wildly. "What's wrong?"

"Alistair, I'm sorry, it wasn't – Maker's breath, sheath that thing before you cut my head off! Anyway, it was just a nightmare."

"Oh." He looked very disappointed. "For a second, I was really looking forward to fighting some darkspawn again."

"So sorry to let you down," Eruestan said sarcastically. He shook his head, trying to wake up. He had had this dream before – he doubted he would ever get used to it.

But that didn't matter. Now was not the time to think about that. It had been a week and a half since they had left the shores of Calenhad, and they had finally reached the foot of the Frostbacks.

As he finished packing up camp, he looked over to see that Alistair was already headed off—and that he was making exceptionally good time.

"For the love of the Maker!" he exclaimed, and started to jog to catch up.

Ever since Eruestan had said that Morrigan would be necessary to save Rowena, Alistair had been pushing forward like a madman. He was like a man possessed – well, wait, not really. If he really were possessed, Eruestan would be forced to kill him. So maybe not that. Still, Alistair's insistence that they not take breaks and that sleep be at a minimum was inspiring, if rather annoying.

To be honest, Eruestan was surprised Alistair was working this hard to see Morrigan, even if she was crucial to Rowena's freedom. Alistair and Morrigan had always treated one another like scum – in fact, Eruestan believed that Morrigan made it a point to treat scum better that she treated Alistair. The two were always at each other throats. _I bet even when they had a child_…

He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. _I forgot_, he thought in disbelief. _I…forgot? How did I forget __that__? I mean, granted, I tended to leave that part out of the stories, but still, I __**forgot**__? That's…that's big. That's _enormous._ I cannot have forgotten _that_. _He quickly thought about telling Alistair. _Sweet Maker! Do you think he forgot too? That's even worse! This is bad. Bad bad bad bad bad bad…_

"Alistair!" he shouted, running through the plains.

Alistair turned around. "I'm not waiting for you!" he called. "You're too slow!"

"It's not that! Just wait!"

"This had better be worth it," Alistair warned as Eruestan approached.

"Oh, I definitely think this is worth it!" Eruestan said quickly, a small note of panic creeping into his voice.

Alistair peered closely at his face. "What's wrong with you?"

"Alistair," Eruestan said slowly, "do you remember why Morrigan left us in the first place?"

Alistair stared at him with an odd expression on his face. "Um, yeah?"

Eruestan was not convinced. "Try harder."

"Well, if I remember correctly, she left because she wanted to raise the child I fathered so that none of us would have to be sacrificed killing the Archdemon, correct?"

"Oh." Eruestan was stunned. "So you do remember."

"How could I not remember? Who couldn't?"

"So, about this trip into the mountains," Eruestan said quickly. "I was thinking that maybe we should try for a more southern approach, but I mean-"

Alistair stared at him, and then burst into laughter.

"Shut up," Eruestan said, smiling too.

"It's just the idea that you of all people would forget that," Alistair chuckled. "Usually you're on top of things."

"It's been a long five years?" Eruestan said hopefully.

Alistair shook his head.

"Shouldn't we be a little more worried, though?" Eruestan asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I mean, she was pretty adamant that she never be found. Plus, Morrigan is a little scary. Oh, and also, she has a child now. A child with the soul OF AN OLD GOD!!!"

"You yell a lot," Alistair whined. "And anyway, I've definitely thought this over, and at first, yes, I was a little concerned about going through with this. But if this saves Rowena, I'm willing to try anything." He looked back at Eruestan. "I still can't believe you forgot!"

"_I_ can't believe you're really okay with this!" Eruestan said. "I mean, what if it tries to attack us or something?"

"Well, we have fought him before," Alistair pointed out.

"Yes, but that time we had a whole army behind us! Plus, I don't think Morrigan would really want to come along if we, you know, kill her child."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Alistair said firmly. There was a fire in his eyes, and Eruestan knew that even though he was looking right at him, he was really seeing Rowena.

"Alright, alright!" the elf said, shaking his head. "Although, if we die, I will personally feed you to a Pride Demon in the Fade'

Alistair laughed. "Looking forward to it."

As they stood at the base of the Frostback Mountains, Eruestan was struck once again by how insignificant he really was. Miles of cliff, rock, and ice shot above them like an extremely dangerous jungle-gym.

Alistair turned to him. "You know, it's times like these when I fully realize how short I really am."

Eruestan glared back at him.

"I mean, really, back in Denerim, I thought I was pretty tall, but now, man, was I wrong."

"Just shut up and hike," Eruestan grumbled. Was it his fault elves were always a few heads shorter than humans?

Following Neyla's map, the two began their long, slow, treacherous hike. There were few footholds, and more than once they both fell a few feet before catching themselves in a panic. The ice was so thick in parts that they were forced to take out hunting knives to stab through it. To make matters even worse, every now and then a distant howling let them know that A. they were not alone and B. they weren't the only hungry ones up there.

All of this Eruestan could bear, though, whereas Alistair could have gone through hell and not complained. Yet there was one thing the elf couldn't stand, and that was the cold.

Eruestan's ears had been a source of constant agony since he had been a child. When, at the Circle, the enchanters had decided to treat the apprentices by creating a giant magical snowstorm to play in, he had run away screaming, hands clamped tightly to the side of his head. It put a bit of a damper on the festivities. Eruestan didn't know why his ears froze over – just that they did, and it was extremely annoying.

So, after having cast a small heat spell that failed to do anything but make the ice on his clothes melt and leave him dripping, he cried out in frustration and began to curse everything from the Maker to his poor auditory structures.

"You've got a lot more to worry than your ears!" Alistair called back. "We're getting closer to her cave!"

"Thank the Maker! How much longer?"

"It's looks to about five more aaaAARRGGH!!!"

"Alistair!" Eruestan shouted, looking around to see what was going on. Had those wolves finally caught up to them? He began to run forward, blinded by the snow, and crashed straight into his friend's back. Alistair was staring, horrified, at something in the distance.

"What is it, Alistair?" Eruestan hissed urgently.

He pointed into the blizzard. Straining his eyes, Eruestan began to make out a large shape lumbering towards them. Suddenly, the snow let up a little, and Eruestan saw what was charging at them.

It was huge. In all his studies of magic and nature at the Circle, Eruestan had _never_ come across a beast like this before. It was easily as tall as three Qunari standing on each other's shoulders, and had ugly, matted white fur. Its eyes and teeth were yellow and bloodstained, and it had four long, sharp claws on each hand. Not exactly what you wanted to meet on top of a mountain.

It roared, sending a shockwave through the mountain and jolting the two friends out of their shock.

"WHAT IS THAT THING?!" Alistair shouted, sword out faster than Eruestan thought possible.

"I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU THE SAME THING!" Eruestan shouted back, staff drawn.

The beast stopped running about ten feet away from them. For a second, both were silent, sizing each other up. Then the beast roared again, and dove to attack.

Alistair dove out of the way of its dangerous claws and tried to slash at its arms; however, the beast was surprisingly agile for its size and was able to get out of the way in time. Meanwhile, Eruestan cast a quick disorientation hex to confuse the beast for a moment. However, when his spell hit the creature, it merely fizzled against its skin with no effect.

"I DON'T THINK MY MAGIC WORKS AGAINST IT!" he cried out as Alistair fought off one of its hands with his shield.

"ARE YOU SURE?!" Alistair yelled as he dodged a rock the beast threw at him.

Concentrating his efforts, Eruestan created a huge bolt of magical lighting that shot through the air straight at the monster. That too faded away the moment it touched its skin.

"Ok, plan B," Eruestan said wildly, putting away his staff and pulling out two wicked looking swords. He quickly muttered the ancient elven words he had learned so long ago and smiled as he felt newfound strength, energy, and speed course through his veins. Jumping up, he ran forward to help Alistair…and was promptly grabbed around the waist by the monster's roving claws.

Alistair ran forward and used the distraction Eruestan had caused to stab the beast in the leg. It roared in pain and quickly dropped his friend, who quickly jumped up and, with a neat maneuver, managed to slice a wound into the monster's arm.

Eruestan smiled as he watched the creature howl in agony from the wounds he had caused. Breaking that phylactery was quite possibly one of the best decisions he had ever made.

He looked around for Alistair, but couldn't find him. _DID THAT THING EAT HIM?!_, he thought madly. However, he didn't have much time to think, because the monster was now able to concentrate its efforts on him. Eruestan ducked and whirled to get out of the way of the numerous rocks and boulders the thing was now throwing at him. He couldn't even get close enough to fight back. He started to get a little desperate. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alistair atop a nearby ledge. With a war-cry, his friend jumped from the top with his sword bared, ready to pierce the beast's skull…

There was a blinding flash of light, and Alistair fell through nothingness and landed in a massive snow bank next to Eruestan. He pulled himself out, and the two stared at the spot where the beast had once been.

Standing in its place was a beautiful young woman with jet black hair falling loosely down her back. Her eyes were bright yellow, and she was dressed in an interesting black outfit that vaguely reminded Eruestan of a crow. She stepped forward.

"Well, well, well," Morrigan said softly. "Fancy meeting you two here."

The three of them stared at each other, no one moving.

"Well, imagine meeting two dear old friends (whom I distinctly remember telling to never see me again) right in front of the cave that I now call home," Morrigan said. She gave Alistair a sly glance. "Although I must say, Alistair, I think our relationship went a little beyond friendship, 'tis not so?"

Alistair looked like he was going to be sick.

"And you, Eruestan. I believe I told you at least three times that you were never to follow me, ever."

"Yes, well, um, t-things have kind of changed," Eruestan stammered. "M-maker's breath, M-morrigan, it's freezing out here! Can we c-continue inside?"

Morrigan's eyes hardened. "You most certainly cannot," she said coldly.

"Wha—well, why not?" Eruestan was sure his ears were going to fall off.

"Do not assume that I don't know what you're playing at!" Morrigan snapped. "I will not allow you to harm my child!"

"Is that what this is about?!" Eruestan cried. "Maker's sake, Morrigan, we just want to talk to you!"

Morrigan snapped her fingers, and Eruestan was blasted back a few feet. She vanished in a blur and reappeared, towering over him.

"DO YOU THINK ME A FOOL?" she bellowed, her face almost demonic. "I remember your skills, Eruestan! I remember what they called you! _Silvertongue_. I know you well enough to know that I can never afford the luxury of trusting you!"

"M-morrigan, please, I'm not lying—"

Morrigan screamed and went to strike him; however, an armored hand held her back. She turned around to see Alistair standing solemnly behind her.

"Morrigan," he said pleadingly, "Eruestan's telling the truth. We need your help. We just want to talk."

Morrigan looked at him suspiciously.

"Morrigan, you have my word that if Eruestan tries anything funny (which I know he isn't going to), I will help you strike him down."

She still did not look convinced.

"Please, Morrigan," Alistair begged. "It's about Rowena."

Her eyes widened. "W-what is it? Is she alright?"

"Please, just let us in. We'll tell you everything."

"Of course." She turned around and began to walk quickly into the distance.

Eruestan climbed to his feet. "Well, that didn't go exactly as I thought it would," he said dryly.

"Did she really try to kill us?!"

"Can't say that I blame her," Eruestan said grimly. Alistair grabbed his shoulder.

"You _aren't _trying to kill this child, are you?" he asked nervously.

"Wh—of course not!" Eruestan smiled. "Do you really think I'd kill your offspring?"

Alistair groaned. "This is going to be extremely weird, I can just feel it.

And indeed, it was.

Morrigan's cave was very roomy. A former dwarven outpost, it was less a cave than a small house, complete with bedrooms and a fireplace, which was mercifully crackling at full blast.

She was waiting for them when they entered. Eruestan couldn't help but notice that aside from her longer hair, she looked almost exactly the same since she had left them after killing the Archdemon. She was doling out stew into roughly hewn bowls.

"Here. You may eat."

The two men hesitantly took it.

"Oh, 'tis not poisoned!" she cried impatiently. "I should not have given up so easily had I truly wished to kill you!"

Neither of them took much comfort from that.

"As you wish," she said dismissively. "Now, about Rowena…"

For the first time in his life, Eruestan saw Morrigan actually look concerned. Rowena had always been one of Morrigan's only friends – but, then again, Rowena had befriended everyone.

Alistair, too, saw this, and he did the impossible – he approved of Morrigan. He quickly told her of all that had happened – Anora's coup, his flight from the palace, Rowena's imprisonment, their plan. She listened inexpressively, not letting them know what was on her mind.

"…and so we came to you," Alistair finished, a note of urgency in his voice.

For a long time, Morrigan didn't say anything. Finally, she said, "I am sorry, but I cannot help you."

Alistair's face fell. "Morrigan, please. We need you. Eruestan believes that you're the only one who can really help us at this point."

She turned to the elf. "'Tis true?"

He nodded. "Yes, the defenses at the top of Fort Drakon are too—"

Then the bedroom door opened, and his heart stopped.

Leliana walked into the room, dressed in full battle regalia. The bow she had taken from Marjolaine was strung across her shoulders, and the hunting knives she fought so well with were gleaming dangerously from her belt. She turned her gaze on Eruestan, and his heart melted at the sight of those beautiful brown eyes. He stood up to run to her – and was pushed out of the way by Alistair, who with a cry went to hug her.

Confused, Eruestan blinked. Alistair was now crying and embracing Leliana – only she wasn't Leliana anymore. Her hair grew in length and shifted to a darker shade of red. Her brown eyes turned green, and her honey complexion paled to white.

Leliana had become Rowena.

Terrified and bemused, Eruestan rubbed his eyes and concentrated hard on what he was seeing. Now, Alistair was hugging and sobbing a small child, no more than four years old. The child was beautiful. He had deep black hair and bright blue eyes. Eruestan stared at Morrigan, stunned. She smiled.

"Urthemiel," Eruestan breathed, unbelieving.

Alistair heard him, looked down, and jumped back as if he had been hugging a darkspawn.

"Holy Andraste," he gasped. "This can't be…"

"But it is," Morrigan said calmly. She knelt over her son. "I seem to remember telling you to stay in your room."

"But we have visitors!" The boy's voice sounded like one thousand symphonies playing together at once. Eruestan wanted to weep, it was so beautiful.

"Yes, well, Mother needs to talk with these men, and then I'll tell you that story about Flemeth that you love so much, alright?"

"Alright." Now his voice reminded Eruestan of a song Leliana had sung so long ago; an ancient elven song that both comforted him and broke his heart.

As the door closed behind him, the three old companions sat in silence.

"That is the reason I cannot go with you," Morrigan said quietly. "I cannot leave him here alone."

"B-but he is an old god!" Eruestan stammered.

"And a child!" Morrigan snapped.

Eruestan stared at her. "And an _old god_."

"Do you think that would matter?!" Morrigan shouted. "Do you really think that I would leave him here, even if he was Dumat himself? I do not care whether or not he can care for himself; I do not care how wise he is, or how powerful! He is my son, and I will not leave him!"

"But Morrigan, we really do need you!"

"No," Alistair said bitterly.

"What?! Alistair, we have to—"

"Stop, Eruestan!" His voice was harsh. "Morrigan's right. We can't expect her to leave her home just to help us. It doesn't matter what we're facing. I'm sure we'll find another way to save Rowena."

Morrigan stared at him impassively. "I know what you're doing, Alistair," she said calmly. "You always were terrible at lying. But, you know, I actually think this is working."

His face softened. He fell to his knees in front of her.

"Morrigan," he pleaded, "you _have_ to help us. I know how much you care about Rowena. You know that she means the world to me. You're the only one who can help us. I know that it'll be painful to leave your son, but you said yourself that he's already able to take care of himself. We won't take long, I swear to you. Morrigan," he said passionately, "I need to know that Rowena's safe. I need to know that she's happy. And I need her by my side. Please, please, _please_, help us!"

The witch stared at him for what seemed like ages. The conflict in her mind was obvious. Which should she choose: her one and only friend, who needed her desperately? Or the son she adored, whom she needed just as much?

Finally, Morrigan gave a weary smile.

"I'll go," she said reluctantly. "But not for you! I do this solely for Rowena!"

Alistair stared at her, then gave an enormous cheer, leapt up, and hugged her right on the spot.

"Let go of me before I change my mind and kick you out into the snow, you oaf!" she shouted, repulsed.

"Right. Sorry!" Alistair's happiness was almost tangible; he was actually smiling fondly at Morrigan.

Eruestan smiled. Like _that_ was going to last.


	5. The Two Queens of Ferelden

It had been one year since Rowena had left her cell.

For that whole time, the only contact she had had with the outside world was the tiny little window meant for air circulation. Back when Anora had been consolidating her power, people would stop outside and yell words of encouragement up to the Queen they loved. Now, however, anyone who so much looked up at the tower she was being kept in was imprisoned and swiftly executed for treason.

Of course, she had been in Fort Drakon before. Five years ago, during the Blight, she had been imprisoned trying to save the same whore who put her in there now. But that time had been different. Then, Eruestan had been there. Along with Alistair.

_Oh, Alistair, if only you were here now!_ she thought miserably. Her Alistair, who could always make her laugh, who could always make her feel happy, safe, and loved. Even though she knew she would never have him imprisoned (that would just mean a quick and imminent execution), she couldn't help but feel that all this would be better if he were just there.

It was just the frustration of it all! Here she was, 22, beautiful, well-loved…and one of the best warriors in Ferelden history. The idea that Rowena Cousland, Queen of Ferelden, sister to the Teyrn of Highever, slayer of the Archdemon Urthemiel, could be held prisoner by a prissy usurper and her small army of guards and mages made her blood boil.

But no one could see her fear, her anger, her desperation. She was a great heroine, a Queen of Ferelden, and she would not give Anora the satisfaction of making her uncomfortable in any way.

A creak on the stairs outside her cell alerted her to another's presence. Sure enough, a few minutes Anora herself walked in.

"Anora," Rowena said coolly. "I thought I smelled 'bitch' walking up the stairs."

"Well, you've matured nicely, haven't you?" Anora said just as calmly. "I merely came to tell you that your oafish excuse for a husband—"

"Don't you dare call him that, you nasty little—"

Anora held up a finely manicured hand. "Not that I'd hate to hear what I'm sure would be a very colorful display of language, but seeing as I have little time and actual news…" She stared at her captive. "According to my reports, your cowardly husband has left for the Frostbacks and possibly even Orlais."

Rowena crossed her arms. "I refuse to believe that," she said stubbornly. "Alistair would never leave me."

"Oh? Just like he didn't leave you at the palace?"

Rowena remained silent. For a whole year, Anora had tormented her prisoner with that phrase…or so she thought. What she didn't know was that Alistair _had_ tried to save Rowena that night. While Rowena had thought many times about telling Anora this and watching her explode with rage at the thought that her worst enemy had been right in her clutches, she always held back in the end. That was her own private victory over Anora, and that was enough for her.

"You have delivered your news," she said coldly. "Unless there is anything else to add, I suggest you leave me be before I start whacking you over the head with that chair over there."

Anora gave her a hard look. "You know, Rowena, we're not as different as you might think."

"That's a pity," Rowena muttered.

"Look at us. Socially, we're equals. By blood, we are the only daughters of the two greatest nobles in all Ferelden. By marriage, we both became queens. In fact, do you know the main difference between the two of us?"

"I don't know, people like me and hate you?"

Anora's eyes narrowed. "No," she hissed slowly.

"Oh, I know! Is it, I have a heart, while you have a little genlock emissary jumping up and down saying 'Kill, kill!'?"

"Class," Anora snapped. "Gentility. Nobility. Or, as I like to say, mine versus your lack thereof."

For a brief moment, Rowena just stared at her. Then she threw back her head and laughed.

"You know, Anora," she chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye, "I never knew you were such a joker! Really, you should be like that more often. I bet people might actually think you were human."

"This is exactly what I mean," Anora said coldly. "Always the tomboy, never the lady. Even as a child, you were like this. A teyrn's daughter need only learn the basics of fighting. You never learned all the things we others learned. You learned Orlesian and Anders when it was fashionable to speak Antivan and Nevarran. You were trained to shoot arrows off of horses while we were trained to daintily jump off them. While you were learning the different ways to disembowel your enemies, we were learning how to embroider our gowns."

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "So tell me, Anora, how well did your embroidery aid you during the Blight?"

"You have never deserved the title of teyrn's daughter," Anora said icily.

"And how would you know!" Rowena snapped. She had had enough of this. "What qualifies you to talk about being a teyrn's daughter? My family has ruled Highever since the Tower Age! We have been teyrns since the Black Age! And yours? Your family was given Gwaren about twenty years ago! How could you possible know what is noble and what isn't?"

Anora looked like she was passing a gallstone. "Blood does not make a noble," she said angrily. "Nor a king. Being a Therin is not the instant qualification for sovereignty!"

"No," Rowena agreed quietly. "But goodness is. So is loyalty, and above all, compassion. I heard yesterday's execution, Anora! That elven girl was innocent, and you know it! You're so paranoid, you see enemies in your own household! You're not fit to be queen!"

Anora slapped her with all her might. "How dare you doubt my ability to rule!" she hissed, cheeks pale with rage. "How dare you assume that this is easy? I am surrounded by vipers; assassins, all of them! I cannot rest for a moment, for fear of being killed! All because of you and your bastard husband!"

Rowena gazed coldly at the pale face, wild eyes, and thin lips in front of her. "You're insane," she said simply.

Anora raised her hand to strike her again; Rowena did not flinch. With a snarl, Anora whipped around and slammed the door behind her.

Rowena collapsed onto her bed. She turned her eyes to the heavens.

_Oh, Father,_ she thought bitterly, _give me the strength to survive this!_

Suddenly tired, Rowena fell back on the bed and fell asleep.

When she awoke, the room was dark. Night had fallen. Outside, the voices of the mages and archers on the ledge by her window were lazily murmuring in foreign tongues.

Thinking back to her confrontation with Anora, Rowena finally shuddered. The last five years had not been kind to the daughter of Loghain Mac Tir. Once a handsome, blond-haired woman, Anora was now waifish. Her hair was thinning and her once-pretty blue eyes were now a little wild with paranoia. The woman was irrational and unstable, and it frightened Rowena more than anything.

Sounds of boots marching up stairs echoed up the tower. _Is it time for the guards to change already_? she thought vaguely, wondering how long she had been asleep. Every night, Anora insisted that a whole squadron of guards be posted in her bedchamber to thwart any attempts to rescue her. At first, Rowena had been terrified to sleep in a room full of military men – however, the soldiers were so in awe of the great Heroine of Ferelden that she soon felt very safe around them. They were all very respectable, and Rowena was even on a first name basis with some of them.

There was a knock on the door, and Rowena jumped up to open it. However, as she stared at the open doorway, her heart stood still.

Staring back at her were two blue eyes. Two beautiful, all-too-familiar eyes.

She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. This was _not possible_.

Alistair stepped forward and illuminated the room with his torch. He was dressed in a guard's uniform that was slightly too big for him. He dropped to one knee in front of her. "My lady," he said in a cheap imitation of a husky voice. "Colonel Davies has fallen ill and asked me to watch over you tonight. We are terribly sorry for any inconvenience, and I hope you will find my services satisfactory."

"Y-y-y-yes, I'm s-s-sure you will be," she managed to stammer out. One thousand emotions rocketed through her body. Elation, confusion, longing…but most of all fear. She locked eyes with him and silently asked _HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!?!?!?!_

He only winked and grinned back at her.

Now she was really worried. _If he doesn't have a plan_, she thought, panicking, _he's going to be killed on the spot. _The very idea of it sent ice-cold chills of terror down her spine. _Oh, he better have a plan. Sweet Maker, let him have a plan!_

Alistair cleared his throat. "I think I'll sit down over here a while!" he said in a loud, booming voice, puffing his chest out importantly.

Rowena's heart sank dramatically. _He…does __not__ have a plan. He is going to die. He is going to die, because I am going to kill him for trying to bust me out without a plan! Oh, sweet, holy Andraste, I'll build you a cathedral ten times bigger than the one in Val Royeaux if you don't let him die. Hell, I'll lead an Exalted March if you just let him live! Three, even! Three Exalted Marches!_

Sitting down at her desk on the far side of the cell, Alistair was now making a surreptitious motion with his hand for her to come to his side. _What, are three Marches not enough?_ she thought desperately. Glaring at him, she shook her head just as surreptitiously. It was a miracle no one had spotted him yet, and she was _not_ going to ruin that by revealing anything resembling a relationship with him. The less they interacted, the better.

He was now motioning urgently, a slight look of panic on his face. Rowena quickly broke eye contact and yawned loudly.

"Well, gentlemen, I hate to be a bad hostess, but I'm afraid I'm rather tired," she said with perhaps a bit too much forced brightness. "So if you'll excuse me, I think I'm just going to get ready for—"

A mage's shriek outside of the window cut her off.

"Lindwurm! Lindwurm!"

_Lindwurm?_ Rowena thought distractedly. _That's Anders for something. What is it again?_

Suddenly, more screams came from outside the window. There was a distant roar. Then, all of a sudden, something huge collided with the side of the building. Rowena was knocked from her feet to the floor. More shockwaves jolted the ground, as whatever that was out there began to climb the tower. Climbing to her feet, she suddenly felt a pair of strong arms around her shoulders.

"Stay right next to me," Alistair whispered quickly. "Oh, and get ready to jump."

"Jump?! What in the name of the Maker is going on?!"

Suddenly, the entire opposite wall of her cell exploded in a cloud of dust and rock. A deafening roar filled the night sky. As the dust cleared, Rowena remembered what 'lindwurm' meant.

Lind wurm.

Breeze snake.

Dragon.

Anora stared at the cloaked figure before her.

"You mean to tell me, Ser," Anora said slowly, "that you have information on the whereabouts of Alistair Therin?"

"Yes," the old man croaked. "From a very reliable source as well, Your Majesty."

"Well, where?" Anora asked impatiently. Every moment without that idiot's head on a pike was a moment in which she could be killed. "Answer me!"

Under the cloak, Eruestan smiled. _Now, now, Anora; play nice_. "Well, let's see…what did he say…"

"Fool!" Anora's voice was brittle. "Tell me where he is, or I'll have you killed in his stead!"

Eruestan scratched his chin. "Something…about…a tower? Yes, a tower."

"There are many towers in Ferelden," Anora said tensely. "Did he perhaps mention which one?"

"It must be Circle Tower!" a new voice shouted out. Eruestan froze. He recognized that voice. It belonged to Cullen, a former Templar whose hatred of mages had caused the Tower to expel him from the Circle. Eruestan had no idea that he had found sanctuary in Anora's court. "Your Majesty, those mages are a threat to you and your government. Give us leave to attack them before they harm you!"

"He probably would go to the Circle for help," Anora said thoughtfully. "You may have a point, Cullen."

"No, I don't think it was the Circle," Eruestan said quickly. "Something 'd'…Draygon? Dargon? Darkon?"

Anora's face turned pale as snow. "Drakon," she whispered.

Eruestan smiled. "Yes, that's it! Fort Drakon!"

For a brief moment, the usurper and her court sat in total silence, not moving. Then she stood up and shrieked, "Guards! To the fortress, immediately!"

"That won't be necessary, Your Grace," Eruestan shouted over the chaos. Everyone fell still, including Anora. She stared at the audacious old man.

"What did you call me?" she asked dangerously, eyes closed. "Am I not Your Majesty?"

"Well, aren't you the Teyrn of Gwaren?" the old man asked innocently. "Before your father betrayed the country, of course." The collected nobles quickly averted their eyes and began to talk amongst themselves; no one wanted to attract any bit of the wrath Anora was about to rain down.

She slowly walked down the steps from the throne to the main floor. "How…dare…you insult your Queen in such a way!" she snapped, eyes flashing. "Just who do you think you are?!"

Eruestan straightened his back and let his cloak fall to the floor. All color left Anora's face as numerous screams fell from the mouths of the members of her court.

He looked her straight in the eyes.

"Your worst nightmare," he said simply.

All of a sudden, a giant roar and a boom in the distance rocked the throne room. Before Anora had time to react, Eruestan waved his hands and cast a powerful spell that enveloped the room in total darkness. Anora fell to her knees screaming, sure that her hour had come. However, the spell ended as soon as it began, revealing a room full of screaming nobles and no elven mages.

Eruestan raced down the halls of the palace, desperate to get away. He passed through room after room, corridor after corridor, not quite sure where he was going. So, naturally, he ran into a guard.

"Say, wait a minute, aren't you—"

With a burst of focus, Eruestan slammed the man against the wall, knocking him unconscious. He quickly donned the man's armor and picked up his bow. Drawing an arrow, he began to run once more until finally reaching one of the palace's side exits. Four guards stood there, weapons drawn. Their backs were to Eruestan – they seemed more interested in the people coming in than those going out.

Eruestan drew back his bow and muttered a few words. The arrow's end began to crackle with electricity. Taking careful aim, he leased it, watching with horrified fascination to see what would happen.

The arrow lodged itself right in the middle of one guard's back, where it promptly exploded in a ball of lightning. Smoke filled the hallway as Eruestan ran forward, taking care to step around his opponents.

Chaos reigned outside in the courtyard. Archers along the balconies shot arrows into the sky at a large shape hidden by the clouds. Eruestan quickly pointed his hands at them and sent a magical ball of fire their way. The impact rocked the palace as bodies flew through the air. Shouts behind Eruestan alerted him to the presence of more guards. Suddenly, the sound of hundreds of arrows being released filled the night sky. Panicked, Eruestan whirled around to cast whatever spell he could think of…only to realize he didn't have to. Standing in front of him, creating a huge wall of blue energy, was an elderly female mage.

"Wynne!" Eruestan cheered, relieved to see his old friend.

"Help…me…" she grunted, concentrating on expanding the magical shield.

"Right." Eruestan focused on combining his efforts with Wynne's. Together, they leaned back and pushed their hands forward, slamming the wall into the archers. The shield struck that palace with the force of a tidal wave, and then dissipated. It didn't look like the archers were going to get up in a while.

Suddenly, Wynne swooned next to Eruestan. He quickly dove to catch her.

"So…sorry…"she panted. "Don't…mean…to be…a burden…"

"Don't worry, Wynne, we've got a way out," Eruestan said soothingly. He quickly looked up into the sky and pointed his arm straight into the air. A beam of light shot out of his fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a giant dragon fell out of the air.

"Sweet Maker," Wynne breathed.

Alistair and Rowena were perched on the beast's neck. "Wynne!" Rowena shouted delightedly.

Alistair gestured quickly for them to get on. "Hurry!" he yelled. "There's a whole army of mages just around the corner!"

Eruestan turned to his prostrate friend. "I'm just going to say this now, Wynne, but I'm really, really sorry about this." He then threw her over his back and began running full speed to the giant beast.

"Come on!" Alistair shouted, jerking his head about to see if any enemies were approaching. With a final burst of strength, he threw Wynne atop the dragon and scrambled up behind her.

"NOW, MORRIGAN!" Alistair shouted. With a deep groan, the beast, slowly shifted its weight throughout its body.

"HURRY UP!" Alistair screamed as the first mage turned the corner.

Finally, Morrigan's wings pumped through the air, and her body took off through the night sky. Rowena looked over the side and screamed.

"Eruestan!" she cried, pointing down at something.

He looked down to see a giant ball of flame headed straight up at them. Channeling his last bit of energy, he summoned a giant freeze spell to intercept it. With a _pfft_, the ball vanished, and all the threats of Denerim as well.

Everyone gave huge sighs of relief. Then, Rowena turned to Alistair and slapped him right in the face.

"OW!" he shouted. "What was that for?!"

"For coming up with such a crazy-arse plan!" she shouted back. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, they both burst into insane fits of laughter. Even Eruestan and Wynne were able to give weak laughs, although neither was in any mood to do much of anything except lie on their backs and slip into a coma.

As Rowena flew through the air with her best friends and the man she loved, she suddenly thought she knew the answer to Anora's question. It wasn't that they had such different personalities, or that they had such extremely different upbringings. No, the real difference between Rowena and Anora was the people around them.

Rowena nestled against her husband for the first time in a year. _Let Anora have her nobles and her paranoia_, she thought blissfully. _This is worth a thousand thrones._


	6. Trying to Survive

There are some things in Ferelden that no monarch can ever control. The first is the Brecilian forest. The second is Morrigan. The third was rumor.

Whispers about the rescue of Rowena flew through the countryside faster than dragon-Morrigan ever could. Despite Anora's best efforts, by the time the sun had risen, people as far away as Gwaren knew that an Archdemon had eaten half the capitol, and then disappeared in a giant ball of flame that evaporated the River Drakon.

However, to those who _really_ knew what happened, none of that mattered. What _did_ matter was the fact that Morrigan was consistently losing altitude, and they were flying over a seemingly never-ending forest.

"She's getting tired," Rowena said nervously.

"Oh, really? What tipped you off?" Eruestan snapped. He always felt a little hung-over whenever he overused his powers.

"Hey, don't talk to her like that!" Alistair said sharply.

"Children, play nicely," a feeble voice from up front chided. Exhausted from last night's efforts, Wynne had been propped up against Morrigan's neck since daybreak.

Eruestan looked at her worriedly. Whatever he might be feeling, it paled in comparison to Wynne's level of fatigue. It was common knowledge to them all that Wynne was kept alive by a benevolent spirit from the Fade. Originally, they had all thought that she had less than a year to live; however, after the Blight ended, the spirit seemed to grow in strength. Wynne figured the Taint had weakened it, and with the Archdemon dead it seemed that she was able to buy some more time. Still, she was careful not to overexert herself, just in case she was wrong.

Rowena looked worriedly over the side. "Do you think you could cast a regeneration spell on her, Eruestan?"

He shook his head grimly. "Dragons are infamously resistant to magic – even magic that helps them. We'd have to be able to cast a massive spell to even hope to affect her, and I…I don't think I have the energy for that." Like most elves, Eruestan hated admitting when he was weak, even to his friends.

"Well, we're going to have to do something," Rowena frowned. "She's dropping so low she's breaking the tops off trees."

"We could throw someone off," Eruestan said dryly.

Rowena turned to Alistair. "Well, you always said you wanted to fly."

"Yes, well, when I said that, I left out the part where I mentioned I'd rather not fall to my death at the end."

"Details, details," she teased.

Morrigan gave a low, threatening roar that made everyone jump.

"I wonder if that means she can't go on much longer," Eruestan said uneasily.

"No," Wynne said weakly. "She said that if they didn't stop being cute immediately she'd throw them _both_ off. Also, she'd like to remind you that it was hard enough to concentrate without the three of you blabbing away up here."

Everyone stared at her.

"Oh, don't ask me how I know," Wynne said irritably. "You pick these things up after a while."

"How do you just 'pick up' dragon language?"

Morrigan roared even louder.

"Now she's saying that if we don't come up with a plan soon, she's going to crash into those trees whether we get bucked off or not," Wynne said. "And don't you question me, Alistair Therin. I've been studying magic since before you were born."

"Right," Eruestan said, forehead puckered. He looked off into the distance. _It's just trees for miles!_ he thought anxiously. Then, a bright speckle caught his eye. _A lake!_ However, he saw instantly that they were too far away to even hope to make it. Then he had an idea.

He jumped up to a standing position. The cross-breezes threatened to knock him over; however, he quickly steadied himself and began to slowly work his way to Morrigan's neck.

"What are you doing?!" Rowena shouted, heart in her throat as her friend was nearly blown off into the trees.

"I have a plan!" he shouted back. Turning around, he took a deep breath, and then ran down the length of Morrigan's neck. For a split-second, the wind caused him to hover over the ground, and he froze with fear. However, at that moment, Morrigan lifted her head, which he caught hold of and grabbed for dear life.

Pulling himself toward her ear, he bent down and shouted, "Morrigan, do you see that lake over there?"

Her head gave the briefest of nods; he struggled to maintain his hold.

"I think we can get over there, but we need to get some elevation!"

She rolled her eyes and huffed impatiently.

"I know, I know, you're exhausted! But I think there's another way!" He leaned in closer. "Can you still breathe fire?"

In response, she let out a small burst of flame; it flew back and almost scorched off Eruestan's eyebrows.

"Er—that's great! Now, I'm going to count to ten, and I want you to make your flames as hot as possible, ok? When I say ten, I want you to breathe the fire about fifty feet away and below us. Understood?"

She gave him a quizzical look with one eye.

"Just trust me!"

Another huff, another nod.

"Ok." He sat back. "One, two, three…"

Morrigan drew in her breath.

"Four, five, six…"

The skin behind her head began to get hot – uncomfortably so.

"Seven, eight, nine…"

Her neck was now scorching; Eruestan's flesh started to blister.

"Ten! NOW!"

Morrigan threw open her mouth, and a giant column of fire shot out in front and below them. Eruestan melded his efforts with hers, trying to make the flames as hot as possible.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" he shouted to the back.

For a second, nothing.

Then they shot up in the air.

Hot air roared around them as they accelerated dramatically. Eruestan held onto Morrigan's skull desperately, determined not to get thrown off. The dragon roared confusedly. They were now at least five hundred feet in the air.

Praying that she could hear him, Eruestan leaned down to Morrigan's ear and shouted, "Can you glide us to the lake?"

She made no response, but all of a sudden Eruestan could feel her entire body tighten. Her wings became taught, and she extended her neck. They suddenly went on a slight decline.

Slowly, their speed increased. Wind whistled around them and chilled them to the core. However, this was most likely the first time Eruestan had been in freezing conditions and _not_ thought about his ears.

The lake was now in sight, but it soon became clear that Morrigan had slightly miscalculated her angle. Fear rose in his heart as the approaching trees became closer…and closer…and closer…

With a sudden roar, Morrigan pushed through the tree line, and they were over open water. She stream-lined her body and pulled into a graceful dive. Eruestan was relieved to hear screaming from the back – he hadn't been sure whether the others had been able to hold on during the fall.

_Granted, the real test is whether we can survive this—_

CRASH!

Morrigan plowed into the surface, sending a huge wave of water across the lake. Eruestan was thrown off her neck and into the depths. He began to swim wildly for the surface. He was completely disoriented. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, and worst of all he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, he stopped fighting and opened his eyes. He let out a little of his breath. The bubbles fell down, not up, and he realized that he had been struggling in the opposite direction. Flipping himself around, he concentrated and thrust his hands out below him. Instantly, he was propelled upwards, until with a sonorous splash he broke out on the surface.

Looking around, he saw Morrigan, still in dragon form, floating in the middle of the lake. _But where are the others?_ he thought, horrified. He started to reach out with his magic into the lake – but then something red stuck out from behind Morrigan's folded wings. He looked up to see Rowena, Alistair, and Wynne standing up on Morrigan's back, all looking frantically around for him.

"I'M OVER HE—oh, sod it," he muttered. He sent off a magical flare to let them know where he was and began paddling towards shore.

Around ten minutes later, Eruestan pulled himself onto the beach, barely able to move. He was so fatigued it hurt to breathe. He lay in the sand, letting the waves beat against his back, feeling the sun bear down on him – it was beautiful, exquisite torture.

He wasn't sure whether it was minutes or hours (and to be honest, he didn't really care either way), but eventually he heard the sound of familiar voices wash onto shore. There was an enormous flash of blinding light that let him know Morrigan was changing back to normal. She collapsed next to him.

"Never…again…"she grunted, too weak to even turn her head.

Alistair and Rowena set up camp while all three mages lay in the sun feeling like they were going to die. Even though he was chopping and gathering firewood, Alistair could not have been happier. Rowena seemed to have grown even more beautiful since he had last seen her. This past year had been the worst in his life, but now that his love was with him none of that seemed to matter. He suddenly shivered, fully realizing for the first time how close he had been to losing her forever. He suddenly threw aside his hatchet and grabbed her about the waist.

"Alistair!" she laughed, dropping her axe as well. "We have work to do!" She smiled up at him. "Not that I'd mind a distraction…" She gently teased his hair, and then rested her head on his chest. Suddenly, she, too, began to tremble uncontrollably.

He grasped her firmly, frightened. "What's wrong?!"

She looked up and laughed ruefully, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's a little stupid."

He gently wiped her other eye dry. "I'm sure I've come up with something much worse."

She grasped him tightly and buried her head his armor. "Oh, Alistair," she sobbed, "you have no idea what I was like in that tower. You died one thousand deaths every day in there! I was terrified each morning that I was going to wake up and find out that you had been killed by bandits, or captured by chevaliers, o-or t-that I was going to have to h-hear your execution, just like I had to hear all those others!" She stared up at him, tears streaming down her face. "I c-can't do that anymore! I can't be apart from you that long, ever again!"

He found himself trembling as well. Like two magnets, the two were pulled into a kiss – a hungry kiss, a kiss that represented a year of loneliness, of terror, of heartbreak.

"I felt the same way," he whispered. "I'd have these awful nightmares that you were being tortured, or put to death, and I couldn't do anything about it. I'd wake up, and you'd still be screaming my name. I thought I was going to go insane. I was so sure…" his voice choked, and he looked down. "Oh, Wena, I was so scared!"

They locked on to each other, as if hoping that if they held on long enough, they could stay that way forever.

Rowena stared up at him, jaw quivering. "Let's make a vow," she whispered, voice shaking.

"Of course," his own trembling voice answered.

"Promise me," Rowena said, "just as I promise you, that nothing – not even death – shall ever separate us again. Promise me that every morning from now until eternity I'll be able to wake up and see you across from me. Promise me that we'll never, ever leave each other, no matter how long we end up living."

"Absolutely," he said fervently. "A thousand times over."

Satisfied, she rested her head once more against the leather of his armor, hearing his heart beat. It sounded beautiful—and far too vulnerable.

"You need better armor," she told him seriously.

Alistair smiled. _That's my Rowena_, he thought blissfully. _Always putting others before her_. He gently stroked her beautiful red hair. "I think you need to get some armor before you start criticizing me," he teased.

"That might not be such a bad idea," a voice said from behind them. The two broke apart so fast it looked like they exploded. They whirled around, blushing, to see Eruestan standing behind them, supporting himself with a makeshift staff.

He gave them a bemused look. "Don't worry, I wasn't here long," he said quickly.

"Oh no, it wasn't that…" Rowena began quickly, but then she stopped abruptly, embarrassed.

Eruestan sighed. "Whatever. I just wanted to tell you that we're all conscious again. Morrigan's having a little trouble moving, but when I left, Wynne was busy tending to her, so I think she'll be fine." He groaned as he sat down on a rock. "And now we come to the next part – what do we do from here?"

"We could go to Highever and call on my brother's support," Rowena suggested.

"Or Redcliffe, with Arl Eamon," Alistair added.

Eruestan shook his head. "That'd be extremely foolish," he said firmly.

"What?"

"Why?"

"Really?" He gave both of them stern looks. They stared expectantly back. He rolled his eyes. "Look, if we go to Highever or Redcliffe, we're kinda shoving our rebellion right in her face."

"I hate to say it, Eruestan," Alistair said, "but I think attacking her fortress with a dragon is more than just kinda shoving it in her face."

"This is different, though," Eruestan said tiredly. "Once we got to Fergus or Eamon, as your relatives, they'd be forced to call for troops to fight in your names. In turn, Anora would gladly summon her own armies. What's really going to matter in the end is on whose side the rest of the Bannorn falls. And unfortunately, I'm inclined to believe that, at the moment, they'd support Anora."

Rowena frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Anora's more powerful than us," Eruestan said simply. "Plus, she's a native Ferelden too – not to mention the daughter of a great hero. Not everyone's seen the extent of her insanity, and so I think it'll be harder to convince people to join our cause without proving ourselves."

"So, what do we do, then?" Alistair asked slowly.

There was a fire in Eruestan's eyes. "Show them why they should follow us. Win a few small victories. Mess with Anora a little. Show her we don't intend to play around. That'll tell everyone that you deserve to be on the throne, and that you mean business. They'll follow suit, trust me."

"One small question, though," Alistair said. "How do we win these small victories if we don't have an army?"

"Well, for starters, we finish rebuilding our team."

Behind Alistair, Rowena stiffened. He turned to her. She locked eyes with him and quickly communicated _He's totally doing this for Leliana!_

_Do you really think so? _he responded. _He's making so much sense._

_Well, yes, but it's completely obvious why he's so eager to keep going with this! He wouldn't want to do it without her!_

_If you say so…_

This whole repertoire went on in front of an extremely bemused Eruestan. While he and Leliana had always been good with non-verbal communication, Alistair and Rowena had a near-telepathic connection. He cleared his throat loudly.

"As I was saying, with all of us together, we should be able to win some recognition – you know, small stuff. Guard posts, supply carts, etc. People will start to see Anora's not all-powerful, and before you know it, we have a rebel army on our hands."

Alistair shook his head. "I don't like it," he said. "It sounds too easy."

"I know," Eruestan said grimly, "but I think it's the best we've got."

"So, where to from here?" Rowena asked.

Eruestan pulled out Neyla's map, which had survived only because of the magical enchantments placed on it. "Well, according to this, Sten should be around Highever, Leliana" (he cleared his throat) "should still be at West Hills, and Oghren should be in Orz—"

He was cut off by a blood-curdling scream as a young elven woman burst out of the brush. Her hair was bedraggled, and there was blood on her face.

She fell to her knees in front of them.

"Please," she begged, absolute terror in her eyes, "you have to—"

Suddenly, her pupils dilated dramatically, and with a sickening crack some unknown force broke her neck.

Horrified, the three friends looked back into the forest where she had come from. They could barely make out the trace of smoke from a campfire lilting into the air.

"Come on!" Alistair shouted, baring his sword and charging into the trees. Eruestan, though far from feeling his best, quickly followed suit. Rowena, however, held back a little. It just seemed so wrong to leave the elf behind, even if it was to go kill her murderers. Rowena bent down to look at her face. Strange tattoos revealed her to be one of the Dalish. Surprised, Rowena closed the girl's eyelids and muttered the ancient elven words she had learned during the Blight. "_In uthenera, na revas_." In waking sleep lies freedom.

Satisfied, she turned to run after the others, but a glint of metal on the girl's body caught her eye. Turning her over, Rowena saw that she was carrying a deadly-looking elven longsword on her back. Smiling grimly, she grabbed it and raced off.

Rowena ran through the trees, not sure if she was going the right way or not. All she could she was green, and the only sounds she could hear were those she was making. She stopped abruptly, closed her eyes, and listened. She could hear nothing. It then struck her how odd it was that she was in a forest where no birds chirped, no squirrels squabbled, and no wolves howled. Everything was deathly quiet, and it frightened her terribly.

Suddenly, a war cry was yelled to the east, but was stifled quickly. Rowena swiveled around and stealthily took off in that direction.

As she grew closer to where the yell had been, the sound of voices began to echo through the trees. Finally, she found herself at the edge of a clearing, with a large circle of men converged in the center.

"WOULD SOMEONE SHUT THIS ONE UP??!!" a weedy old voice from inside the circle shouted. "WHY AREN'T ANY SPELLS WORKING?!?!?!"

"Ser, he's a dwarf."

"That's no excuse!" the old man snapped. "Oh, let me have him!" There was a shuffling in the circle, and as it split open Rowena jolted with surprise and fear.

About ten mages were lined up around three men, all of whom were on their knees. Alistair and Eruestan looked like they were being forced to do so; Oghren looked like he thought they were all playing some sort of game.

"Do I know you?" he asked the old mage drunkenly.

"I should certainly hope not," the old man said coldly.

"Damn. Well, uh, I'm….uh…I'm a pleased ter meet cha." With that, he leaned over and vomited on the man's boots.

With a cry, the man leaned back and smacked Oghren across the face. "Learn some respect, you drunken bastard!" he snapped.

Rowena fingered her sword, ready to charge; however, at that moment Alistair raised his head and grunted, "Don't call him that!"

Rowena watched in horror as the old man turned his gaze on her love. He thrust out his hand, and Alistair's body went rigid.

_Blood magic!_ Rowena thought, terrified. The mages must have set upon Alistair before he could employ his Templar skills. Quickly, she began to mentally armor herself.

_Magic is meant to serve man, not to rule over him,_ she repeated in her mind. With each repetition, she felt the mental barrier that kept out blood magic form.

The maleficar towered over Alistair. "And what of you, brave Ser Knight?" he asked dangerously. "Where do you fit in all this? What is a man with…" (he grunted and focused) "…_Templar _training doing with an elven mage and a drunkard dwarf?"

"Hey, watch how you talk about my mother," Oghren giggled.

One of the mages paled. "Ser, did you say he was a Templar?" he asked nervously.

The old mage stared at him indifferently. "Yes," he said coolly. "Your point?"

The other mages exchanged worried looks. "Couldn't he…you know…kill us all?"

The old man laughed. "Please, this man? I've broken him already. Watch, could a full Templar be put through _this_?" He pointed his hands at Alistair, who suddenly froze. Rowena watched in horror as his veins began to bulge out and his limbs began to twitch. Suddenly, he let out a dreadful scream as his own blood began to turn against him.

Infuriated, Rowena lost all discretion. Thinking quickly, she hid her sword in her dress and moved forward, murder in her heart. She burst out of the tree line, her mind steeled with disciplined fury.

The elderly mage turned around and laughed; with a sob of relief, Alistair collapsed to the ground behind him.

"Well, well, we have company," he said softly. "And pretty company at that."

She glared at him.

He yawned. "Oh, look, men. Another infuriated woman. How boring." He lazily thrust a hand out at her; she dropped to her knees in what she hoped was a convincing manner.

He casually walked over to her. Placing his hand under her chin, he pulled her to her feet, tilting her head up.

"Now let's all play nicely, shall we?" he said gently. "Play along, and I promise I won't hurt you…much…"

Alistair and Eruestan watched in horror as he leaned in closer…and then screamed in agony as a blade shot out of his back.

Rowena twisted her sword, making sure it disrupted as many of his organs as possible. "Bastard," she spat, watching his dying face with contempt. She then looked up at the other mages. For a moment, they seemed to be frozen…then, with dawning horror, they went in to attack.

They were no match for her. She rolled under two flame spells and quickly cut down the men casting them. A mage ran up to attack her with his staff; she parried his blow with her sword, and then spun it around to cut off his head. She grabbed one mage in the middle of casting a paralysis spell; she spun him around and used him as a shield from another mage's lighting blast. Running forward, she cut the other man down.

The remaining four mages circled around her, staffs pointed warily. Taking deep breaths, they concentrated their magic and sent out giant rays of freezing cold air. Rowena dropped flat on her back and let the spell run its course. Jumping up, she twirled through the air and with a swinging motion felled two more. The remaining two fell to their knees.

"P-p-please, S-s-s-ser," one stammered, terrified out of his wits. "D-d-d-don't kill us. W-w-w-we didn't want to do this in the first place!"

Rowena gave him a hard look. He and his friend were both very young – obviously easily impressionable. She bent down over his face; he whimpered with fear.

"Go," she whispered. "Fly to Tevinter, where they take scum like you. But be warned: if I ever see you again, you'll join your friends. Understood?"

He nodded his head so rapidly Rowena thought it would fall off. "T-t-t-thank you, Ser! If I had had any idea that—"

"Go!" Rowena snapped, sword brandished.

"Right away, Ser!" the mage squeaked. He and his friend ran off into the trees.

As the four companions trudged back to camp, Wynne jolted up.

"Where on Earth have you been!" she cried. "Morrigan and I came here to find this poor girl dead, the three of you gone, and total silence in the forest! And why in the name of the Maker are you covered in blood, Rowena?!" She looked into the back of the group and gave a gasp. "Oghren?! Is that you?!"

"Oy, not so loud," the dwarf muttered painfully.

"For once, I have to agree with Oghren," Eruestan said meekly. "I'd love to explain everything, Wynne, but seriously, if I don't get some sleep in fifteen minutes, I might actually implode."

"Same here," Rowena said.

"Ditto," Alistair said.

Oghren was already asleep.

She raised an eyebrow. "Rough afternoon?"

Eruestan laughed. "You have no idea."


	7. Ataash Qunari

"No", the giant said simply.

"Well, that's helpful," Alistair said dryly.

Eruestan rubbed his forehead. They had walked _way_ too far just for this.

They had trekked through the forest for days, completely lost. What didn't help matters was the fact that Oghren, who found Morrigan attractive (or, as he put it so eloquently, "really bang-worthy"), kept telling Morrigan just how bang-worthy she was; this prompted Morrigan to tell him how unable to bang he'd be if he kept that up. It really was just like the Blight all over again.

However, by some grace of the Maker's, in a few days they had wandered out of the woods and found themselves at the gates of Amaranthine. They had snuck inside under the cover of night, hoping to buy supplies at the market. However, they had soon run into an old friend.

Eruestan sighed. "Sten, look, I know you have your duty, and your honor, but seriously, we need your help!"

"No," he repeated.

"But—"

"The Sten has spoken, _bas_!" one of the other Qunari said sharply.

Eruestan threw up his hands. "Rowena, you try! He always liked you!"

Biting her lip, Rowena approached the table Sten was sitting at. Brushing her hair out of her face, she bent down over it…and was promptly pushed out of the way by Sten's men.

"What the—what are you doing?" she said indignantly.

"You are a woman. You should not approach the Sten," one of the soldiers said contemptuously.

"Oh, that's just lovely," Wynne muttered.

Rowena gave the man a death glare. "Would you care to repeat that, ser?" she asked dangerously.

"You are a woman. You should not approach the Sten," he said in a monotone.

Rowena made an attempt to go forward; the men pushed her back again, this time with a bit more force.

"_Parshaara_," Sten said calmly. "Let her through. She is _ashkaari_."

Reluctantly, the men stepped aside.

She stepped icily between them and stood firmly before Sten. "Sten, I know this doesn't sound right. Why should you defy the Qun and your country just to involve yourself in the politics of a foreign country?"

Sten nodded.

"But Sten," Rowena said, smiling, "there _is_ a way that this affects you."

No reaction.

"Well—okay, well, Sten, think about it. As king and queen, Alistair and I were always friendly to the Qunari, right? You can't guarantee the same from Anora. So, see? If you help us, you're actually helping Par Vollen, in a way." She stood up, as if sure she had won her point.

"No."

She faltered. "Oh! But, I mean, we could be allies…"

"The Qunari need no allies."

"B-but, in wars—"

"The Qunari have never lost a _shok_ before," Sten said. "They will not in the future."

"Bah! You try," she said irritably to Alistair.

Trying to look casual, he approached the table. "Now, look, Sten—"

"Definitely not," Sten said calmly.

"Oh…damn…" He turned around discontentedly.

Morrigan tried her hand next. "'Tis true, Sten, that I have missed your company," she said sweetly.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I have spent much time wondering what would have occurred had I…_accepted_ your…_offer_…"

A vague sense of interest lit up in his eyes.

She smiled shyly and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Perhaps we could…_explore_ that outcome?"

Oghren snorted. "Don't getcher hopes up there, pal. This one's colder than a nug out on the Deep Roads."

Eruestan whacked the back of his head. "Not helping!" he hissed.

Regaining her composure, Morrigan battered her eyelashes. "So…shall we be expecting your company?"

He leaned in very close to her. "No," he whispered.

"Blast and damnation!" She moved away haughtily to the other end of the room.

"Are you done?" Sten asked smoothly.

Eruestan gave him a weary look. "Sten, look, we need you too much to just let you go!"

"Why?" Sten asked. "You have Morrigan, Wynne, and the dwarf. Is that not enough for you?"

_But we may not have them for long_, Eruestan thought desperately. Now that their need for her wasn't urgent, Morrigan kept hinting that she was thinking about leaving. Rowena managed to convince her to stay for a time, at least, but Eruestan was hesitant to trust her for too long. Wynne, while knowledgeable in many magic arts and a powerful healer, was still a little shaky – he didn't want her in action too much. And as for Oghren…well, he apparently had a mission of his own.

When Oghren had sobered up a few days ago, he had explained just what he was doing topside again. He had been selected by the Assembly of Orzammar to investigate the disappearance of a massive amount of lyrium from the dwarven mines. The lyrium, set up for sale for the Chantry, had gone missing a month ago after a team of topsiders had visited the city. Infuriated, King Harrowmont had commissioned Oghren, now a great hero to the dwarves, to go out and track down the culprits. Eruestan suspected that Anora had stolen it, for there were rumors that she was planning to import a large number of mages from Orlais. However, they couldn't be sure, and if they were to come across the thieves, Oghren would be obliged to return to Orzammar with the load.

And so, Eruestan knew that they needed all the help they could gather. There were far too many variables in this plan to leave much to chance.

"Sten, you have to agree that there's a good reason why we want as many people with us as possible," Wynne said pointedly.

"Do _all_ you women talk so?!" Sten's guard said incredulously.

"I really hope I just misheard you," Wynne said coolly.

"Anyway, Sten," Eruestan said hurriedly, "can't you just make some room in your heart, for old time's sake?"

But before the Qunari could answer, Rowena gave a loud gasp from the window.

"What is it?" almost everyone asked, including the laconic guards.

"Look!" she whispered, pointing out into the streets. They peered out to see a whole team of Templars walking through the crowd – with Cullen at their head.

"Maker's breath!" Eruestan swore.

"They're coming right for us," Rowena said nervously.

Alistair turned to Sten. "Do you think you could hold them off for us?"

"Why?"

Everyone stared at him.

Oghren grunted. "Well, this is a twist."

"Are you…_betraying_ us, Sten?" Rowena asked, disbelief written on her face.

He stared at them impassively. "I have a duty in Ferelden given to me by the _Arishok_ himself. I will not do anything that will interfere with that duty. I will let them in. However, I will let you hide yourselves, if you wish."

There was a loud knocking from downstairs. They were cut off.

"I'll take the hiding!" Eruestan announced. Nodding their agreements, the friends raced off into the backroom, leaving the Qunari to their business.

The six of them sat in silence in the backroom, ears pressed to the door. They heard the main entrance open, and heard Sten and Cullen exchange tense pleasantries. The sounds of chairs being dragged across wood floated upstairs.

Eruestan gagged. "Andraste's Grace, what is this room?" he whispered, retching. "It must be the privy or something!"

"Oops," Oghren blushed. "Sorry."

Everyone made silent yet explosive gestures of disgust and began to dash over to the other side of the room. However, the sound of voices quickly stopped them in their tracks.

"So, Ser…"

"You may call me Sten," the Qunari answered gravely.

"Ser Sten." Cullen sounded satisfied. "Now forgive my asking, but haven't we met?"

"Possibly."

"Yes, I think I do know where I've met you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you involved with the mage Eruestan Surana and the rebels Alistair and Rowena Therin during the Blight? I believe I made your acquaintance at the Circle Tower, during the abomination attack."

"Yes," Sten said. "You were the weak, frightened man who was raving mad the whole time."

The other Templars in the room snickered. Upstairs, Eruestan whispered, "Sten: 1; Insanity: 0."

Cullen cleared his throat. "Yes, well, times were different then." His voice took on a hard, brittle quality. "Those damn mages tormented me relentlessly during that time. I saw those bastards torture and kill my closest friends. They would leer at me, tell me that I was next, tell me to be a good boy so that I wouldn't ruin their fun. I had to watch them transform people I had known since I was a child into _abominations_. And then the demons…a Desire demon approached me in the form of a mage I was…fond of. Her image tormented me with something I could never have. You see, Templars aren't allowed to form relationships other than those with the Maker." He laughed cruelly.

Rowena nudged Alistair in the side. "Hear that?" she whispered. "You're breaking the rules."

"Well, then, they shouldn't make the consequences so desirable," he whispered back teasingly.

"You two make me more sick than Oghren's flatulence!" Morrigan snapped.

"Believe me, you haven't had the worst of it," Oghren muttered.

"SH!" Wynne and Eruestan hissed at the same time. They pointed vigorously at the door, as if to remind them all of where they were.

Cullen's voice resumed its calm. "So, naturally, when the Grey Wardens approached my magical cell, I begged them to kill all of my tormentors—even if it meant killing innocents as well. I still stand by my logic: had those mages harbored any spirits, we would have all been killed. However, the mage Eruestan made sure that none of _that_ was going to happen. He and his little party went in and saved the day, and I was released."

Sten frowned. "I know all this, _kabethari_. I was there, remember?"

Cullen gave another harsh laugh. "Oh, you may have thought you saw it all," he said cruelly, "but you certainly didn't see what was going on in _my_ mind. They were all abominations to me. I begged the Knight-Commander to call for the Right of Annulment, but I was ignored. As you can imagine, I became a little…_derailed_ at that point. My conduct towards those damned spell-casters got me kicked out of the Tower, and I was alone. However, I quickly found a new patron." The sound of a chair being kicked back echoed in the upstairs. "Queen Anora was very interested to have a Templar who hated that sleek, smooth-talking piece of Fade-scum Eruestan Surana as much as she did, and she took me in."

Cullen cleared his throat once more. "Which now brings us to my reason for coming here. It has come to the queen's attention that the former king and queen of Ferelden, along with their mage friend have been roaming the countryside, gaining allies. Naturally, since you were once close associated with the Grey Wardens, she has assumed that they have contacted you. Is this so?"

Silence.

"Ser Sten," Cullen said, a hint of impatience in his voice, "the information I'm asking of you is important to her Majesty and therefore to the realm itself. I ask again, have you heard from any of the Grey Wardens?"

There was an impossibly long paused as the party upstairs held their breaths, unsure whether or not Sten would protect them. Eruestan felt minutes, hours, days pass by. Finally:

"No."

More silence. Then Cullen let out a short laugh.

"He lies," he said calmly, "and therefore he is an enemy to the state. Take him and his men away," he shouted to his guards. "Maybe a few days in the Amaranthine dungeons will jog his memory."

"What the—_vashedan!_" Sten bellowed as the sounds of metal swarming down on metal filled the room. Alistair and Rowena both made efforts to go and help, but Eruestan jumped forward and held them back. Finally, the sound of struggling downstairs ceased, and they heard to their horror Cullen's triumphant voice shouting, "Take these men back to the castle! The Queen will be proud, men!"

The six of them stood in the downstairs parlor, shocked. Tables and chairs were pushed over, and a bottle of ink was overturned on the floor.

Rowena spun around on Eruestan. "What were you doing back there?!" she shouted. "We could have helped him!"

"She's right," Alistair glared. "Sten defended us when it would have been much easier just to hand us over. That wasn't right!"

Eruestan shook his head. "Come on, you two! You know you're not making sense! Look at us! Three of us are mages, so we're as good as useless. Then we've got Oghren, who isn't exactly the poster child for sobriety – no offense."

"Huh?" Oghren said, scratching himself.

"My point exactly."

Rowena still glowered at him. "Alistair and I could still have helped."

Eruestan looked at her tiredly. "Could you've, Rowena? Look at you. Those Templars are wearing some of the best armor money can buy, and you're wearing the same dress you wore the day we broke you out of prison. Alistair isn't doing any better. You'd both be killed instantly."

Rowena looked like she was going to say something, but then thought the better of it. "Well, maybe you're right. But that doesn't change the fact that Sten needed our help in battle, and we just sat there!"

"But the risk—"

"That doesn't matter, Eruestan! When someone needs you, you help them! Risks be damned!"

"Wena…"Alistair said softly, "you know he was doing what he thought best…"

"No," Eruestan said quietly. "She's right. We should have helped. I'm sorry."

"Don't tell it to me," Rowena said firmly, though not unkindly. "Tell it to Sten."

"What?!"

"You got Sten into this, you get him out."

Eruestan stared at her. "What exactly do you think I did? Light up some sort of sign saying 'Hey Templars! Traitors over here!'"

Rowena stared at him.

"Um, I think you better do this," Alistair said quickly. "The last time she looked like that, she cut someone's lungs out."

Eruestan sighed. This was going to be painful.

It was a long cold night at the castle of Amaranthine. Two guards stood sentinel at a lonely side door. Most of the guards were concentrated towards the front. The two expected an easy night.

"D'ya reckon' those Grey Wardens are gonna come rescue that bloody Qunari?" one of the guards asked.

The other man snorted. "Please, with all these Templars about? They'd have to be completely insaaaaAAAH WHAT IS THAT?!!!"

The man jumped a foot in the air as something rustled on the floor. Drawing his sword, the other soldier bent over and looked. He began to laugh.

"Who's completely insane now?" he chuckled, sheathing his weapon. "Look, it's just a mouse. Don't piss yourself or anything." He wiped a tear from his eye and returned to his post. "Sweet Maker, you looked like Maferath himself had returned from the grave—"

There was a huge flash of light, and a woman appeared from where the mouse had been. Armed with a long staff, she whacked one man over the head, knocked him to the ground, and then speared one in the stomach before either fully knew what was going on.

Morrigan brushed the hair out of her eyes, and then searched the men's bodies for the key to the door. She unlocked it and let the others in.

Alistair and Rowena quickly donned the guards' armor while Wynne, Eruestan, and Oghren smeared mud on their faces. The plan was rather simple – Alistair and Rowena would pretend to escort the two mages and the dwarf to the dungeons. Morrigan would assume her mouse form and run ahead to let them when any guards were coming. From there, Eruestan hoped they'd be able to find Sten.

_And after that…_Eruestan thought worriedly. _Well, I'll think of something._

He quickly pulled out the metal clasp in the back of his hair and undid the braids that met there. Rumpling his hair, he turned to Alistair and asked, "Do I look convincing?"

"You look like Morrigan," he laughed.

"I hope that is a reference to our similar hair colors, and _not _my personal appearance," Morrigan said tersely.

"Alright," Eruestan said, anxiety in his eyes. He snapped his fingers; metal handcuffs appeared around his, Wynne's, and Oghren's wrists. "Remember, we have to be stealthy. Under no circumstances are we to draw attention to ourselves." Loud snores cut him off. "Andraste's Grace, why is he sleeping here of all places?! Oghren!"

The dwarf snapped up. "Sorry! Sorry!"

_Give me strength_, Eruestan prayed silently.

The troop moved forward warily. Morrigan took off down the corridor ahead of them. She squeaked three times; Alistair and Rowena closed their visors. Three guards walked around the corner.

"Halt, soldiers," the leading officer said importantly. The entire party stopped. "What have we here?"

"Prisoners, ser," Rowena said quickly, her voice echoing in her helmet. "They were caught stealing in the market just now."

The soldier peered curiously at them. "A human, an elf, and a dwarf? All they need now is a Qunari and they'll have a complete set!" He looked up at them. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to bust those Qunari down there out, would you?"

They all froze.

The man laughed. "Lighten up, there! It was only a joke!"

"O-oh," Rowena said weakly. "A joke. Haha, ser. That was quite funny."

"Ease up there, recruits," the officer said. "Those Qunari are gonna be locked up in there for quite a while." He turned to his men. "All out, troops! To the guard post! Let's see whether or not our men have passed out from boredom!"

"NO!" Alistair gasped.

The guards turned around and stared at him.

"Well, why not?" the officer said sternly.

"Um…well…you see…"

"They're drunk," Eruestan drawled, listing off numerous prayers to various gods in his mind.

Everyone in the room turned around and stared at him.

"Excuse me?" the officer said, startled.

"Completely wasted," Eruestan continued. "Wouldn't know their bottles from their knickers. These two didn't want to tell ya 'cause the others made 'em promise not ta rat 'em out." He chuckled. "I dunno, maybe they thought they'd get sumthing or what to drink 'emselves."

The officer stared at him for a very long time, and then burst into laughter.

"Oh, that's classic!" he chortled, clutching his stomach. "Can't say that I blame them either. Well, men, what say you? Shall we just head to the dining hall and let the others have their fun?" The other guards nodded in agreement. "That's settled, then. Continue, soldiers." Still shaking his head, he led the others down the hall and around a corner.

"That was brilliant," Rowena and Alistair whispered at the same time.

"A little reckless, and incredibly lucky, but yes, rather clever," Wynne said, smiling.

Only Oghren was a little irritated. "Ya shouldn't mess with a man like that," he growled. "Now all I can think about is how good a nice ale would be around now."

They flew down the rest of the halls, listening for Morrigan's squeaks to let them know when any guards were approaching. However, the farther into the castle they went, the less people questioned them as to why they were there. It appeared like the idea of any outsider getting this far in was inconceivable.

Soon, however, they found themselves standing in front of the massive oak door leading to the dungeons below. Morrigan disappeared under the wood.

"Remember, keep your cool," Eruestan whispered. Nodding, Alistair and Rowena each took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

Around fifteen guards were milling about a large room. The men looked bored and completely unprepared. Eruestan was shocked to see that there were no Templars in the area.

_They must really think it's impossible for us to attack_, he thought incredulously. _I didn't think they'd make this so easy!_

A man rose up from the chair he was sitting at and walked in front of them.

"Well, now, what's this?" he asked lazily, holding back a yawn.

"Prisoners, ser," Alistair said. "We have orders to take them to a cell to wait for trial."

"Well, I'll see to that myself. Thank you. You may go." He made motions for his men to take them away.

Alistair quickly held up his hand. "I'm sorry, ser, but we have orders from the captain to take prisoners to their cell personally."

The officer looked at him oddly. "What fool captain told you that?"

"Captain…Smith…"Alistair said, rather unconvincingly.

"Captain Smith? I've never heard of him," the officer said suspiciously.

"Well, that's because…he's from Orlais."

Eruestan groaned inwardly.

"Captain _Smith_? From _Orlais_?"

"He's…um…"

The man stared at him, then shrugged. "Whatever. Damned Orlesian language never made sense anyway. Men! Escort these soldiers to the dungeons."

Four soldiers begrudgingly got up from their card game. They led the group down a long network of interconnected hallways. Clearing his throat, Alistair began to strike up a conversation.

"So, what are those Qunari like?" he asked nervously.

One of the men laughed. "Those giants? Not half of what the stories say. They didn't even put up a fight! Just sat there and accepted what was happening to them!"

"They didn't struggle? Why not?" Alistair asked.

"Do I look like I know?! Personally, I'm glad they didn't – those things could have torn us apart if they hadn't been as weak as kittens."

Rowena gave a very visible (and very rehearsed) shudder.

"Aw, is the little lady scared?" the man asked condescendingly.

"N-no," she said bravely, although she looked a little jumpy. "It's just…they're so large!" She looked around as if startled by something; there was no one there. "Where are they being locked up? I hope it's somewhere safe!"

The men laughed. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. You'll give yourself nightmares. If you must know, the Qunari cell is just down that hallway to the right."

"Lovely." She gave a small nod to Eruestan. He quickly muttered a small spell that bathed the area in silence.

Suddenly, Rowena grabbed the man closest to her by the neck, swept his legs out from under him, and stabbed him through his armor with a tiny dagger. Before the others had time to react, Alistair ran another man through with his sword as Rowena butterfly-kicked a third into oblivion. One last guard opened his mouth to sound the alarm—however, he found it difficult to cry after Alistair decapitated him.

Stealthily, Rowena snuck down the hallway to the corridor where Sten's cell was. Two guards were keeping watch, looking bored out of their minds. She chucked two throwing knives at them, watching with satisfaction as the fell to the ground without a cry. Behind her, Eruestan snapped his fingers once more; the metal surrounding the "captives" hands lost its form, becoming a free-flowing liquid. Carefully balancing it through mid-air, he approached Sten's cell and coaxed the metal inside the lock. With a stiffening of his fingers, the metal solidified, forming a makeshift key. He burst open the door.

Sten sat alone on the floor, his face bleeding. His clothes were tattered, and on his back the open wounds of a whip could be seen.

"Sten!" Wynne gasped. She ran forward, hands thrust in front of her. Sten was suddenly enveloped in a blue glow that made his injuries vanish.

Rowena entered the room cautiously. "Sten! Thank the Maker! But where are the others?"

"Dead," he said quietly.

"WHAT?!" She (along with everyone else) was shocked. "But, Sten, how? Why??"

"They were tortured," he said. "They wouldn't give in. They were killed."

Eruestan dropped to his knees. "Sten, I-I c-can't…I d-don't even know what to say..."

"I will join you," he said calmly.

"B-but, b-but…" Eruestan looked completely thrown off. "Sten, your men were all tortured to death!"

"Exactly. I want—"

"Revenge," Rowena said quietly. Rowena knew all about revenge. She herself had been consumed by it five years ago, when a friend of her father's had betrayed him and killed her entire family. Rowena had not rested until she herself slit the man's throat.

She helped Sten to his feet. "Well, there you go."

"There is one thing I need, though."

_Oh, please don't be the sword_, Eruestan pleaded silently. _Please don't let it be the damned sword! We just need to get out of here!_

"My sword. The Templar took Asala away from me and locked it in his chambers."

_Blast!_

"Sten, I don't know if we'll have the—"

"I'll get it," Morrigan said.

"Oh, that's nice of WHAT?!!"

"Do not act so surprised," Morrigan said coolly. "I am, after all, a human. Besides, it is to all our benefits that Sten has his sword, and I am quite certain that I am the only one with a chance of getting past all the guards unnoticed."

Eruestan let out a huge breath. "Morrigan, this is…really unexpected. And potentially really stupid."

"I shant be gone long," she said calmly. She closed her eyes, focusing intensely. Suddenly, a bright yellow light enveloped her, and she shrunk back into her mouse form.

Rowena bent down over her. "Be careful, alright?"

"Yeah," Alistair said ruefully. "Try not to get eaten by any cats or anything." He seemed rather taken with the idea.

Eruestan watched her run down the hallway, past the corpses of the dead guards. "You're all trying to get me killed, aren't you?"

Morrigan raced down the hallway, hidden in the shadows. Stopping in a corner, she reached out with her magic to try and locate the Templar's quarters. The castle was a hotbed of energy – all except for one room directly above her, which was deathly still.

Just the type of environment for a Knight Templar.

She raced down the hallway, almost being crushed by an elven servant who wasn't watching where he was going. Skidding around the corner, she found herself at the foot of a large flight of stairs. Thinking quickly, she concentrated and transformed into a fly.

Buzzing up the stairs, she landed on the wall and surveyed the scene. This hallway was completely different from the one below. Everything was still; no servants wandered around, no guards lazed about. Suspicious, Morrigan flew over to the door of the silent room. It was cracked open; she flew warily through.

It was a very nicely furnished room. Orlesian paintings, Antivan furniture, Nevarran carpeting…it was not typical Ferelden décor. However, all Morrigan could see was the giant sword sitting on the table in the center of the room.

With the characteristic flash of yellow light, Morrigan resumed her human shape and picked up the sword…or at least tried to. It was extremely heavy.

"Perchance I can make it lighter," she mused.

"Oh, that won't be necessary," a behind her said.

She whirled around to see Cullen standing by the door, sword drawn. She started and pulled out her staff.

"Oh, there's no need for that," Cullen said calmly. "In case you haven't noticed, mage, I'm a Templar. Your magic is useless against—"

Morrigan whacked him in the head with her staff. With a stunned cry, he fell to the ground. Muttering the strange words her mother had taught her, Morrigan grabbed Sten's sword. It was now light as a feather. However, voices from outside the door quickly reminded her that the fight was only halfway won. Thinking quickly, she threw open the armoire and pulled out a suit of armor.

Coming out of the room, she ran right into a pair of guards. One of them peered closely at her now-helmeted head.

"Wait a minute—do I know you?"

With a cry, Morrigan clutched his face firmly. He suddenly began to scream as his flesh blistered at her touch. The other guard, horrified, drew his sword. However, she quickly concentrated and blinked. The man's sword transformed into a wriggling, deadly viper that promptly turned on its master.

The guard in her grasp stopped struggling, his face now almost unrecognizable. Without looking back, Morrigan took off once more.

As she raced down the stairs, Morrigan vaguely wondered how she was possibly going to fool the guards this time. However, she soon saw this wouldn't be necessary.

Cullen appeared in the doorway, his head bleeding from where Morrigan had struck him. "Men!" he cried. "After that mage!"

The collected soldiers stood up confusedly, unsure of which mage their leader was talking about – all they could see was a fellow guard. Morrigan used this to her advantage, casting a stunning spell that knocked all the guards unconscious. Blasting down with her staff, she sent out a shockwave that sent everyone flying. With a roar, Cullen jumped down the stairs, his sword aloft.

"By the name of the Maker, I will strike you down!" he shouted.

Morrigan smiled grimly. _Bring it on_.

Down in the dungeons, Eruestan was a nervous wreck.

"What is she going to do against Templars?" he said worriedly, pacing back and forth along the cell. "She's going to get caught, and then we're going to get caught, and then we're all going to die, and Anora and her evil spawn will rule Ferelden forever and—"

"Eruestan!" Rowena said sharply. "Morrigan will be fine. She knows better than to get herself caught."

Alistair perked up suddenly. "Do you hear something?" he said curiously.

They all fell silent.

"Yes," Eruestan said slowly. "It sounds almost like—BATTLE!"

With a jolt, everyone in the room raced out. Once in the hallway, the sounds of swordplay filled the air. Pushing their way out of the dungeons, they saw to their horror Morrigan locked in one-on-one combat with Cullen. She swiped her staff at his legs; he jumped over it and slashed out with his sword. With a cry, Morrigan clutched at her arm, which began to spray blood.

"Morrigan!" Rowena cried. She ran forward, her own sword drawn.

Cullen drew his attention from Morrigan for one brief moment.

Big mistake.

Without even blinking, she sent a huge ball of magical force flying at him. It walloped into him, sending him flying backwards into a wall. With a groan, he collapsed in a heap. It didn't look like he'd be waking up for a while.

Eruestan raised a fist to cheer…and quickly lowered it when he saw a whole squadron of Templars running down the hallway.

"RUN!" he told the others. As they fled towards the back exit, Eruestan pointed his fingers to the ceiling and muttered ancient Tevinter words. With a blinding flash of light, a ball of energy ripped into the ceiling, blocking the hallway and covering the room in dust. Roars from the other side let him know that he had been successful. However, just as he was about to gloat, a gloved hand burst through the rubble.

"Ok, time to go," he muttered wildly to himself. He took off down the hallway to follow his companions.

As the group trudged through the streets of Amaranthine, Rowena tapped Eruestan on the shoulder.

"Hey," she said, a gentle look on her face. "I just wanted to thank you for coming up with this whole plan. I mean, I know Sten won't be thanking you anytime soon, so I figured it was better to hear it from me than no one at all."

"I just can't believe it worked," Eruestan said wearily. He shook his head. "Rowena, I think I'm getting too old for this!"

She smiled. "Oh yes, the ripe old age of 23!"

"That's easy for a 22-year-old to say," he joked.

Oghren's voice interrupted them. "Hey, Hotstuff. Ya dropped sumthin'."

"If this is some horrendous pick-up line, you lecherous creature, I swear I'll—"

"Keep yer panties on," he snarled. "Ya dropped this piece of paper."

"It is from this armor. I care not for it."

"What does this even…well, butter me up and call me a Paragon!"

"What is it, Oghren?" Eruestan asked curiously.

"A lead, that's what it is! Look!"

He thrust the paper into Eruestan's hands. Even though the lighting was terrible, he could dimly make out what it said:

_ Dear Ser Templar,_

_ Her Majesty wishes to inform you that your request for a share of our exploits from Orzammar has been denied. The Queen feels that the mages she is soon to be supporting express a greater need for the lyrium than her Templars._

_ So dreadfully sorry to be the slightest inconvenience._

_ Arlon deChaubliss, First Enchanter of the Orlesian Circle of Magi_

"So Anora is responsible after all," Eruestan said, satisfied.

"Looks like I know where I'm headed," Oghren said gruffly. "I reckon you're the only people who can get me to that whore before the Assembly calls for my bum on a grill."

"Good to have you aboard, Oghren."

Smiling, Eruestan looked about the company.

Maker, it was just like the Blight all over again. Except for one huge exception.

But that was to come next. He couldn't think about that now. If he thought about it too much, he wouldn't be able to bear it.

Even still, as he closed his eyes to sleep in some seedy inn, only one face and only one name flashed through his mind.

_Leliana, here I come_, he thought dreamily as he slipped into the Fade.


	8. UnWelcome Guests?

Anora stared at the man kneeling before her, the sudden urge to rip out his hair slowly consuming her.

"You mean to tell me," she said slowly, struggling to keep her voice composed, "that you successfully captured an ally of the Grey Wardens, with a whole army of Templars with you, and you neglected to put him under top security?"

Cullen dropped his head bitterly. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And that because of your stupidity, the 'Blightforce' themselves (three of whom, I might add, are mages) were able to infiltrate Amaranthine Castle and rescue said captive?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Cullen said, teeth clenched.

"And finally, even when a whole troop of Templars were hunting them down, the Grey Warden Eruestan managed to destroy the entire second story of the castle without even blinking?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And tell me why I shouldn't have you killed on the spot?"

"Madame, please," a heavily accented voice said from behind her. A ruddy-haired man dressed in mage robes approached Her Majesty. "We must not be too hasty with this man. I am sure that he did not mean to let all of your enemies vanish right under his nose."

"Like you could have done better, mage!" Cullen spat. He wouldn't have any Orlesian spell-crafters putting one over _him_. "Those Grey Wardens are extremely powerful warriors!"

"I suppose I cannot compare the Ferelden Templars to the Orlesians," Arlon deChaubliss said snootily. "The idea that an Orlesian Templar, though, would let a party of mages defeat them is laughable!"

"Why don't you come down here and I'll show you just how Ferelden Templars fight?"

"ENOUGH!" Anora snapped. Sitting down on her throne, she wearily rubbed her forehead. "Now the Qunari has joined the party. If they find that Orlesian hussy, we're going to have a real fight on our hands." She glared at the Templar. "Find them. Keep them from finding that girl at all costs! That is," she said, eyes narrowing, "if you value your head."

Cullen dropped his forehead to the ground and kissed the earth in front of her. "Without question, Your Majesty. I will bring those rebels to their knees."

"Then it is settled," Anora said calmly. "Consult with Arlon. He shall use his magic to find this girl." Collecting herself, she walked serenely out of the room, leaving the two men glowering at each other.

The mage cleared his throat. "Follow me, Ser Cullen," he said calmly. "And try not to get lost in the hallways. I know there are a lot of them."

Cullen fingered his sword. How satisfying it would be to run this man through.

The mage laughed, as if able to read his mind. "Go ahead, try. I'm sure the Queen would love to hear how her advisor was killed by a little boy with a sword." He shot a look of contempt back at the knight. "Now hurry up. I don't have all day, and there is work to be done."

Cullen bit back his fury. There would be time for vengeance later.

Hundreds of mile away, Eruestan's heart stopped as he approached the city of West Hill, party in tow.

This was it. This was the culmination of three years of confusion and heartbreak. Finally, after endless days of emptiness, he would have answers – whether he liked them or not. However, even if Leliana broke his heart for once and for all, he'd at least be able to see her one last time.

The city was foreboding, an empty shell of what it used to be. West Hill had once been a strong fortress against raiders from the Free Marches. However, when the Marches' power waned, West Hill became irrelevant. The once mighty fortress became a storage unit for the monarchy, and the hordes of people living there dwindled to a few hundred. Then the Blight struck.

West Hill had been devastated by the darkspawn, so overrun that the Arl himself had lost both his sons. Now, the city was a ghost town, abandoned, decrepit, and rotting.

Rowena looked over the town and gave a small shudder. _Thank the Maker Highever never looked liked this_, she thought fervently. She linked hands with Alistair and smiled at him. However, he gave her a very odd look.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow. "You don't suppose West Hill has changed its Revered Mother, do you?"

She stared at him. "Beg pardon?"

He started to look very uncomfortable. "Well, do you?"

"How should I know? I've never been to West Hill before!" She peered closely at his face. "Alistair, what in the name of the Maker is going on?"

"Look, I…know Revered Mother Agatha, alright?"

"Ok…and why is that bad?"

"Well…"

"Did you kill some of her relatives or something?"

"No…"

"Did you…set fire to the chantry?"

"No, that was in South Reach," he said sarcastically.

"…Is she a darkspawn?"

"Yes," he said with a straight face. "Every service, she draws a member out of a pew and eats him in front of the whole congregation."

"Well, that can't be good for attendance."

"Actually, no, I think they enjoy it. Lets them get rid of some of the less popular townsfolk."

She laughed. "Seriously, though, why are you so nervous? She's just a Chantry priestess."

He winced. "Oh, no, she's much worse than that. She's more twisted. And evil. And…_mean._"

"And how exactly do you know this?"

"Well, this is where I learned to become a Templar."

She froze. Alistair _never_ talked about his days as a Templar. It had gotten to the point that she had just stopped asking. "I-it is? Why didn't you say something?"

He dropped his gaze. "I…guess I just didn't want to talk about it. I hated being at the Chantry, and I certainly don't want to go back – so I figured there was no point in bringing up bad memories so soon. However, now that we're here..."

Thinking back, Rowena realized that Alistair had been extraordinarily quiet since they had left Amaranthine.

"I'm a fool," she said, horrified. "I spent days talking about how excited I was to be going back to Highever soon, and all the stupid things I did there, and how I fought with my mother, and all this other meaningless rubbish when you had something really important to say!"

"Oh, no!" he said quickly, throwing his arm around her. "I wouldn't have talked about it even if you had asked! Besides, I love hearing you talk about life in Highever."

"Well, I guess…wait, you do?" she asked, distracted.

"Of course," he said gently. "You were happy then. It shows."

She linked her arm around him this time. "I'm happy now," she said truthfully.

They smiled at each other.

"But, anyway, Mother Agatha," she said quickly, shaking her head.

His face paled a little. "She was pretty horrible. I was twelve when I came to the Chantry, and she did all she could to make sure I was the perfect brainwashed Templar."

Rowena felt the familiar flame enter her eyes. "Go on," she said tersely.

He looked down at her. "I don't like that look. That's your, 'I'm going to kill something' look. What does that look mean?"

"I just need to know whether or not I'm going to let this woman keep both her kidneys when I meet her," she said fiercely.

"Not that I wouldn't take immense pleasure in that," Alistair said quickly, "but I think it'd probably be to our benefit if we kept the maiming to a minimum here."

"Just tell me what she did."

"Wena…"

"Ok, ok, I won't maim anyone! Now tell me what happened!"

Alistair took a deep breath. "Oh, the usual stuff. You weren't fed for three days if you sneezed during prayers. Saying the Maker's name in vain was worth a week in solitary. Failure to memorize the Chant of Light resulted in a beating – ten strikes for each word missed."

"That's terrible!"

"Plus, we were always told that mages were these demon creatures who would suck out our souls if we talked to them. And if we befriended them…" he laughed. "I'm pretty sure Mother Agatha thought the Maker would come down himself if a Templar and a mage became friends. Sure showed her, I guess—Eruestan's my best friend, and so far I don't think he or Wynne have any plans to kill me."

"You haven't said anything about Morrigan," Rowena teased.

"I know." He chuckled. "Sweet Andraste, I hated it there. Once, when I was 16, I ran around the Chantry with nothing but my smallclothes on, just to piss her off. It worked – I thought she was going to have a stroke!" He shook his head. "Maker, was it boring! If I didn't have my training, I'd have gone insane! I don't see what Leliana likes about it!"

"Well, that's the odd thing," Rowena said quietly, forehead furrowed. "She _didn't_ like the Chantry. She told me she thought it was too quiet. Said she liked the action of the outside world too much. So I really don't understand why she ran right back to being a sister."

Alistair shrugged. "People act funny sometimes," he said simply.

They were now approaching the gates to West Hill. A small squadron of guards was stationed at the front. One in front held out his hand.

"Halt," he said importantly. "Who are you?"

Eruestan stepped forward. "We're travelers, ser."

The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, really? That's a surprise. They're travelers, men!" The guards chuckled. "Now why don't you give us some names, fool?"

"I'm Marcaunon Tabris, from the Alienage in Denerim," Eruestan said calmly. "These two are Sarelda and Dren Nathers, from Gwaren. This is Belina from the Circle of Magi, and the other young lady is Mariah Endres from Redcliffe. We're adventurers, ser. The Qunari and the dwarf are hired mercenaries."

"I see. And what brings a group of adventurers to West Hill?" the man asked suspiciously.

Eruestan held up his hands. "We're just looking to stay the night and stock up on supplies, ser," he said half-truthfully. "I promise, no funny business around here."

The man rolled his eyes again. "Whatever. There's not much to mess around with here anyways. Just don't make us have to come after you."

"Duly noted, ser," Eruestan said respectfully. The guard motioned to the watch tower, and the gates promptly opened.

"So, _Marcaunon_," Rowena whispered after they had passed through. "That was some skilled talking back there."

"Thank you, thank you," he grinned, giving a mock bow.

"Where'd you get that name? _Marcaunon_. Is it elven?"

'It is," he said. His eyebrows knit as he tried to think. "Was it…I'm fairly certain it was my older brother's name. Yes, I'm sure it was."

'Oh!" Rowena was shocked for the second time today as she realized how little she knew about the two men that meant the most to her. "You had siblings?"

He nodded sadly. "Five, actually. All from the Denerim Alienage."

"What happened to them?" she asked.

He looked off into the distance. "I have no idea."

Inside, the town was as decrepit as it looked. Darkness seeped out of seedy alleys, and dirt and grime seemed to ooze out of the buildings. Filthy people clothed only in rags shambled about, casting the group nasty looks. A foul smell lingered through the air – it reminded Eruestan of the smell of death. Or Alistair's socks. Or both.

However, one building stood magnificently above the rest – the chantry. From the looks of it, the large West Hill chantry was the only building in the entire city to retain some of its antebellum glory.

Eruestan felt his heart stop. He was so close it was almost painful – he was literally having difficulty breathing.

_Relax_, he told himself. _And remember – recruitment first, then heart-felt confessionals. Duty first. Duty first. Duty first._ Yet, however many times he repeated it, all he could think of was seeing her again.

As they approached the chantry gates, Alistair and Eruestan both lost all color in their faces.

"It's alright, you two," Rowena whispered soothingly. "As long as we behave, I'm sure everything will…" She looked back to see Oghren staring directly at her chest. "Well, on second thought…"

She turned around and pulled Morrigan, Sten, and Oghren aside. "Ok," she said quietly, voice firm. "I know the three of you aren't members of the Chantry. However, I just want to lay down some ground rules from the get-go, alright? So, Oghren, no offering to relieve anyone of their vows. And I mean _anyone_."

He grumbled, kicking his foot.

"Sten," she said, "please, no conversions to the Qun this time, ok? They're not going to like that, and I really want to avoid trouble here, alright?"

"Fine," the Qunari said tersely.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to Morrigan.

"Yes?" the witch said calmly.

"Morrigan," Rowena said, almost pleading, "please, please, PLEASE don't tell anyone that you're going to slit their throat. Or that you're an apostate. Or that your child is an old god. Or that you conceived said child in a sex rite with Ferelden's king. In fact," she said rather hurriedly, "it might be best if you just don't say anything at all in there."

Morrigan stared at her impassively. "As you wish, my friend," she said

Rowena, although not entirely convinced, decided not to argue a point. "Thank you," she said weakly. She gave a forced thumbs-up to Eruestan and Alistair, both of whom looked like they were going to throw up.

"Well?" Wynne asked the two friends. They both looked at each other queasily – neither moved forward. "Oh for the love of the Maker!" Walking forward, Wynne grabbed a door handle and pushed her way into the place.

The inside of the chantry was even more spectacular than the exterior. Intricate golden designs snaked up the pillars, and fine tapestries depicting the life of Andraste hung on the walls. At the other end of the building, an enormous marble altarpiece carved to look like the Golden City towered over the chantry. Priestesses dressed in beautiful robes walked up and down the aisle, looking either worshipful or self-righteous.

"How did they get the money to build all this?" Rowena whispered to Eruestan incredulously. He just looked straight forward, not saying anything. "Um, hello? Eruestan?" Sensing that this was futile, she turned to Alistair and began to ask him the same. However, as soon as she opened her mouth, Alistair caught sight of someone in front of her, gave a small whimper, and quickly tried to make himself inconspicuous.

Rowena looked over to see a wizened old woman bending over a cowering young man. She seemed to be berating him for something. Rowena stealthily crept up to hear more.

"…shame on you, Wendon," the lady wheezed. "How dare you offend the Maker in such a way?'

"P-please, ma'am," the man trembled, "I j-just can't give you the full tithe this week! My family needs the extra money for food—"

"Food?" The old woman's voice cracked like a whip. "Who would choose food over the Maker? Have you no fear for his glory? Do you dare disrespect him so? Look around you, fool! See what reverence we give to the Maker here. Do you think we could do so without the funds from this parish?"

"B-but, my c-children…"

"Do not make me call for the Templars, Wendon." The Revered Mother's voice had an air of finality to it. "Either pay the extra ten silver or spend some time in the dungeons."

Rowena stared in disbelief as the young man, probably no older than she herself was, gave away his money in despair. She had never been a strong member of the Chantry, but even she was shocked at the cold cruelty of the priestess.

"What is wrong with her?" she whispered vigorously to Wynne.

"That poor man," Wynne clucked sympathetically. "I can't imagine not being able to provide for the ones you love."

Emboldened by her contempt, Rowena walked forward towards Mother Agatha. Hearing the party, the Revered Mother turned around and grinned.

"Welcome to the chantry," she said smoothly, her eyes vaguely reminiscent of a bird of prey. "Donations can be made to any sister on the premises."

"Actually, we weren't here to donate…" Rowena began. However, the scandalized look on the mother's face made her stop in her tracks.

"Not donate to the Chantry?" The woman sounded like she couldn't possibly believe what she was hearing.

Rowena took a deep breath. "Yes, well, we were actually kind of hoping that we could…take…something…" Her voice trailed off at the look of fury Mother Agatha flashed at her.

"TAKE something from us?" The Revered Mother drew herself to full height. "Young lady, I'm not sure where you think you are, but the Chantry is no place to look for charitable donations! Why, we can barely manage enough as it is! How could we expect to go on if we just handed things out willy-nilly?"

Eruestan snorted. She turned a malevolent eye on him.

"An elf. And from the looks of it, a mage as well. Disgusting. How dare you bring this filth into a chantry of the Maker?"

"Watch your mouth, shrew!" Morrigan snapped.

"Yeah, you can't talk to him that way!" Alistair said, forgetting just where he was.

Mother Agatha's gaze latched on to his face. Recognition slowly dawned on her face.

"Well, well, well," she murmured, a look of glee slowly spreading across her mouth. "Look who we have here." She stepped forward and gave a mock curtsy. "_My king_. How noble of you to return to your roots."

Alistair took a step back, face blanched. "M-mother Agatha. L-long time, no see."

She cackled. "Oh, yes, you made sure of that, didn't you? You just couldn't wait to get out of here and disgrace the Chantry, couldn't you? Going off to be a _Grey Warden_, and get _glory_, and fight _Archdemons_. Despicable. The Grand Cleric herself commanded you to stay! And then you had to become _king_, Maker preserve us, although," she said, eyes glinting, "I suppose you didn't trouble us with that for long…"

Bristling with anger, Rowena stepped forward. "How…_dare_…you talk to the King of Ferelden in such a way? Without him, you'd all be dead!"

She cackled. "And I suppose you're the common tramp this fool calls his queen, aren't you? To think a _Cousland_ would end up so trashy…it pains my heart. Tell me, how long did it take you to seduce Alistair into breaking his vows?"

"Alistair never made any vows in the first place," Rowena said icily. "And if he did, I think they're rather ripped to shreds at this point."

"Revolting," Mother Agatha said contemptuously. "Get out of this chantry at once. May the Maker himself rain his wrath upon you."

"Fine," Rowena said, just as wrathfully. "You've just given me quite the lesson in religion, your Reverence." She turned to leave.

"NO!" Eruestan cried, dropping to his knees. The Revered Mother stared down at him as if he had gone insane. "Please, your Reverence," he said, almost begging. "We aren't here for sovereigns or anything like that."

Mother Agatha snorted. "My foot, you aren't."

"Please, ma'am," a gentle voice from behind her said softly. "I think he's telling the truth."

Looking up, Eruestan saw a young blonde-haired woman dressed in very simple robes. She looked at him kindly out of soft blue eyes.

"Constrain yourself, Sister Susanna," Mother Agatha said coolly. "These people are filth. I will not have them in this chantry."

The sister's eyes became a little hard. " 'All men are the Work of our Maker's hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.' "

The Mother's eyes narrowed as well. " 'Those that oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn; the seas shall rise to devour them.' "

" 'The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world – she shall know true peace'," the sister said, rather loudly.

" 'Maker, my enemies are abundant! Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion should they set themselves against me. '"

Eyes closed, the sister muttered quietly, " 'For You are the fire at the heart of the world, and comfort is only Yours to give.' "

Silence filled their end of the chantry as Eruestan watched the Revered Mother struggle to come up with a fitting response from the Chant of Light. Finally, she let out a vexed sigh and stormed off down the aisle.

"I'm so sorry," Sister Susanna said pleasantly to them. "Her Reverence has always viewed things a little…differently than the rest of us. She seems to think that fine decorations are more important than the lives of her parishioners. Complete rubbish, if you ask me. Why would the Maker care if his chantries are well-designed if all his followers have starved to death because of it?" She shook her head suddenly, as if remembering where she was. "But enough of that. There are much more pressing things, apparently. How may I help you?"

Rowena cleared her throat. "Yes, well, we were actually looking for a friend of ours. Could you lead us to Leliana?"

The sister looked confused. "Leliana? I'm sorry, I don't think there's anyone here of that name. I could ask…"

"No," Eruestan said softly. His stomach felt like it was going to explode. "She's under the name of Surana. Sister Surana."

Sister Susanna's eyebrows shot up dramatically. "Oh! So you know Sister Surana? We were wondering when someone would show up about her! It's not every day beautiful young women come in covered in blood looking for shelter."

Eruestan started. "Did you say covered in blood?"

She laughed. "Yes, that's exactly how I felt when I first saw it, too! She never told us anything, though. She just walked in one day, knelt in front of a statue of Andraste, and started praying. She never did leave. We gave her a room in the dormitories, and she's been as quiet as a rock ever since." She gave them a funny look. "And how do you know her exactly?"

"She's an old friend," Eruestan said quietly.

Sister Susanna was obviously still curious, but she tactfully held her tongue. "I'll just call for her then." She turned to another sister. "Hildegard, run and fetch Sister Surana, would you?" Turning back to the others, she smiled and asked, "So where are you all from?"

Alistair and Rowena shot quick looks at Eruestan. He didn't notice; he was fixating on seeing where the other sister was heading. Panicking, they both tried to remember what their friend had said at the city gates.

"I'm Serenda Anthers, and this is my husband…"

"…Eld…" Alistair said slowly. "We're from…Gwaren?"

"Yes! And the Qunari's a mercenary…"

"…the dwarf is too, right?"

"I think so…and you're…"

"Belinda," Wynne said smoothly.

"And you're…?"

Morrigan gave Rowena a withering look. "I did not care to take notice."

"And this is Marcan…Marcoon…Maaarcinin? Mar something," Alistair finished, putting on what he hoped was a winning smile.

The sister raised an eyebrow at them.

"Don't mind them," Eruestan said distractedly, "they're a little…out of…sorts…"

Eruestan's mouth ran dry and his heart began to beat so hard it actually painful.

The sister was returning. And behind her was Leliana.

She didn't see them at first. Her hair, instead of its usual chin-length cut, was demurely put into the twin buns traditional of a Chantry sister. She wore simple robes like Sister Susanna, and her head was bent reverently. However, there were some subtle differences separating her from the rest of the sisters. She walked with a delicate grace, such that it almost gave her the appearance of dancing. A tiny little flower was tucked into her belt, and she still possessed a very subdued vitality that screamed out against the placidity of the Chantry lifestyle.

Eruestan suddenly felt all his nausea fade away. It was as if someone had erased all the pains he had been suffering for years. The empty hole eating away at his heart filled, and he felt like crying for joy from it. She was so close now – how could anything go wrong?

He took a step forward, arms slightly parted.

She looked up.

He had imagined many outcomes when he had played this scene out in his mind. He imagined her being incredulous, joyful, tearful, upset. But nothing could have prepared him for what she did.

Her lovely faced screwed up into an expression of horror, shame, and absolute terror. With a cry, she slipped away from the other sister and ran back into the dormitory, leaving the man who loved her alone, arms open in shock.


	9. The Silent Sister

The sister slammed her door behind her, heart pounding.

_How did they find me?_ she thought frantically, trying to catch her breath. _I thought it'd be impossible…_

She sank to her knees, burying her head in her hands. Just as she had started to forget, they had showed up. She had been so close to leaving everything behind – and then it reared its ugly head once again.

_They'll never know_, she thought viciously. _If I have to stay behind these doors for the rest of my life, I'll never show myself to them again. If they ever find out…_ The very thought of this filled her with intense shame and fear, and with a sob she sprang to her feet and ran down the hallway.

On the other side of the door, Eruestan stood frozen, as still as the statues of Andraste that filled the chantry. A look of intense hurt and confusion slowly began to etch itself in his face.

Exchanging dark glances, Rowena and Alistair tentatively stepped forward.

"Look, mate, she probably just thought you were here for…uh…revenge or something."

"Yeah! Eruestan, I bet if we just go back there and talk to her she'll understand…right, Alistair?"

Silence.

Rowena sighed. "Eruestan, I know this looks bad, but…I'm sure there's just some mistake…"

Silence.

Rowena leaned over and grabbed the elf's hand. It was ice cold. Startled, she walked around and looked into his eyes. They stared glassily back at her.

Sister Susanna stepped forward, a stern look on her face. "Perhaps it would be best if you all left," she said firmly.

"Sister, please, if we could just talk to…"

"No," she said, jaw set. "I'm not sure what your connection with Sister Surana is, but evidently she's upset by it. Sisters of the Chantry must protect one another. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"But—"

"Yes," Eruestan said quietly. He slowly raised his head. His voice had a hardened quality that made Rowena shiver. "We should go."

Rowena leaned in. "Eruestan," she whispered, "we've come this far…"

"No," he said coldly. "Don't try to lie to me. You saw her just as well as I did – she's frightened of us. She h-hates us." His voice trembled a little. "Well, that's fine. Let her rot here for all I care!"

"Eruestan, that's not fair and you know it!" Rowena said hotly.

His head dropped. "I k-know," he whispered. "R-Rowena, please, just g-get me out of here."

"Eruestan…"

He looked back up at her in anguish. "_Please_," he whispered urgently. "I c-can't be here anymore."

Reluctantly, Rowena turned to the sister once more. "I'm sorry we caused a disturbance. We…_probably_…won't be back."

The sister bowed her head slightly. "May the Maker protect you."

"And you as well." As she walked away, Rowena caught a glimpse of the Revered Mother sitting in her office. When they made eye contact, the old woman smiled maliciously and merrily waved goodbye. Confused, Rowena straightened her shoulders and walked with dignity out the doors.

Mother Agatha stared gleefully at the two men sitting across from her. She had received their notes about their arrival in West Hill a week ago and had thought nothing of it…until the events of that morning, that is.

"Are you sure, Your Reverence?" Cullen said slowly, delight building up inside him.

She tsked impatiently. "Of course I'm sure, boy! Alistair Therin was at my chantry for five years! And you said you're looking for a red-haired girl connected to the Grey Wardens, aren't you? Well, I've found two."

"All the Grey Wardens in one fell swoop," Cullen breathed, hardly able to believe it. The queen would probably have a statue of him built.

Beside him, Arlon deChaubliss leaned forward. "Madame," he purred, eyes gleaming, "Her Majesty will be ecstatic. I wouldn't be surprised if she made you the new Grand Cleric! So please, my lady, take us to them."

"Well, I _would_, sers," she sighed wistfully. "But I'm afraid I simply have far too much to do at the chantry. We're in desperate need of repairs, and we are just too low in funds to do anything about it…"

Cullen stared at her. She was dressed in exquisite robes that shimmered when she walked, and she wore an amulet around her neck that was encrusted in sapphires, rubies, and diamonds. She glared back at him, as if daring him to challenge her. Arlon, however, gave a short sigh and asked, "How much do you require, Madame?"

"Oh, I think about…fifty sovereigns should do it," she said sweetly.

The mage rubbed his forehead. "That is…quite a sum…However, I am sure Her Majesty will pay it tenfold the instant we have captured the—"

The woman's eyes glinted. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that, ser mage. After all, wouldn't it be terrible if the Grey Wardens were to find out somehow that there was a trap being set for them before it could be sprung?"

"We'll do it," Cullen said loudly, shooting a nasty look at Arlon. It was bad enough that the mage had had to travel with him – the idea of him taking charge of things was insufferable. The mage, however, stared straight ahead and said nothing.

Mother Agatha smiled. "Then it's settled. Come back to the chantry around eight o'clock tonight, just before the evening service. I'll make sure they're there."

Mage and Templar bowed before her.

She smiled. Tonight would be a _very_ good night.

Eruestan was slowly burning a leaf with his mind.

He concentrated intensely on only letting it smolder, trying to keep his mind occupied…to not let it wander…

_She was frightened of me…_

With a giant FWOOM! the leaf exploded into a small ball of flame.

He sat in the dark, shaking. _What did I do? _he thought desperately for the thousandth time. _What could I have possibly done to make her hate me so much? _He flashed back to their last days together in the palace. _We were _happy_, _he thought ruefully. _I loved her, and I kn—_thought_ she loved me…_

Slowly, fury began to grow in his chest. _I don't deserve this! She's the one who left—_I _should be the one who doesn't want to see her! You know what? Fine. Let her live her life in the Chantry. Let her grow old, and tired, and lonely. That's her choice. I could care less!_

The instant he thought it, though, he knew he didn't mean it, and depression took the place of rage. He buried his face in his hands.

Suddenly, a loud bang from the other room jolted him out of his seat.

"THAT BITCH!" Rowena shouted, voice consumed with anger. "The least she could have given us – hell, the very least she could have given Eruestan – was a chance to talk to her! Who does she think she is?"

"Be fair, Rowena," Wynne said sternly. "None of us know why she left—maybe—"

"_Exactly_. We _don't know why_. How can we try to help her if we don't know what's wrong in the first place?"

"Personally, I believe an appropriate mode of action from this point would be to raid the chantry tonight and kidnap her," Morrigan said smoothly. "As an added benefit, perhaps we could slay that harpy of a Revered Mother as well."

"You know, that's not a half-bad idea…"

"No, Rowena!" Alistair and Wynne both said quickly.

"Personally, I think we should be focusing on Eruestan, not Leliana," Alistair said.

Oghren snorted. "If he feels anything like I felt after Branka left, he doesn't want to talk to anyone."

There was a long pause.

"Oghren, that's…_really deep_," Rowena said, surprised.

"Well, when someone's THAT good between the sheets, it takes at least a few hours for the sting to go away."

"And we're back to normal," Wynne sighed.

"Well, anyway, what are we going to do?"

The voices dropped to a low murmur. Eruestan walked over and opened the window.

Oghren was right. He didn't want to talk. At least, not to any of them.

_So what do I want?_ He realized the answer as soon as he asked it. _I need an explanation. That's what I came here for in the first place. I need answers._

Suddenly, a voice down below called out to him. Startled, he looked down to see a young boy staring expectantly up at him.

"If you please, Ser, a message for you," the boy called up.

"Erm…yes, go ahead," Eruestan said, confused.

"It's from a Chantry sister, Ser. She wanted me to tell one of you that she's sorry and that she wants to talk."

Eruestan's pulse quickened. "W-which sister? Did she give her name?"

The boy wrinkled his forehead in concentration. "I can't remember…something odd…Leliana, I think."

A small spark of hope was ignited inside the elf. "Thank you!" he said quickly. The boy nodded and ran off into the night.

Eruestan stood for a moment at the window, debating whether or not he should go. "Sweet Andraste preserve me," he whispered fervently. Reaching over, he grabbed his cloak and weapons, and climbed out the window towards whatever fate had to bring.

Eruestan entered the chantry to find it completely empty and dark. Confused, he turned to leave…until a beautiful voice distracted him.

"Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written," it sang, seeming to come from all directions. Suddenly, a line of sisters carrying candles appeared from the dormitories, all singing from the Chant. They slowly filled the chantry, casting eerie shadows on all the statues and tapestries. A chill of premonition went down Eruestan's back…and suddenly there she was.

Leliana stared at the altar, hoping to regain some of the devotion she had once held. The sisters around her sang with passion and love—things she could not emulate.

Yet she could pretend. She had always been good at that.

She suddenly felt someone's eyes on her, a sense every Orlesian bard possessed (or at least, the live ones). She turned her head minutely…to see him again.

Heart in her throat, she felt her legs go weak. For a wild moment, love overwhelmed her…and then she remembered why she had left. With a silent cry, she slipped through the crowd of sisters back towards the dormitories, the rising melody of the Chant drowning out her sobs.

Alistair knocked tentatively on the bedroom door. "Eruestan?" he said softly. "Could you hand me my bag?"

No one answered.

He sighed. "Mate, look, I'm not trying to bother you or anything, it's just that I left something in there."

Again, nothing.

"Alright, well, I'm coming in anyways, so…" He opened the door to find no one there and the window open. "For the love of the Maker! ROWENA!"

Cullen watched gleefully from Mother Agatha's office as the elf's heart broke.

_Serves the damned traitor right_, he thought smugly. He wrapped his hand around his sword. _How good would it feel to just run him through right now…_ He started to move forward, but was held back by Arlon.

"No!" he hissed urgently. "Kill him now, and we may lose the others forever! Just wait…they'll come…"

The Revered Mother approached from behind them.

"Thank you ever so much for the sovereigns," she cackled. "I don't know what we would have done otherwise." She was now dressed in what appeared to be solid gold robes, and her buns were held in place by silver bands. She drew herself up importantly. "I must now go and attend to my duties. Act as you see fit." She walked out into the main hall and picked up the melody in a thin, reedy voice.

Cullen smiled grimly and looked out into the building. Unbeknownst to all the sisters present, behind every statue of Andraste either a Templar or a mage was secretly stationed, ready to pounce. Tonight would be a glorious one indeed.

The party ran through the streets of West Hill as stealthily as possible, not wanting to attract any attention. Rowena couldn't believe how foolishly Eruestan had acted—if the sisters called for the Templars, he would most likely be killed.

Running forward, Rowena and Alistair pushed open the chantry doors gingerly, right into the middle of the evening service. The sisters paid them no heed, instead kneeling reverently in front of the altar. Eruestan stood, crushed, in the center of the hall.

"There you are," Wynne said, relieved. "We were sure you were being attacked by Templars!"

"I think that'd be preferable to what just happened," he said bitterly.

"Well, if you insist," someone behind him said maliciously. Eruestan whirled around to see Cullen and a red-haired mage step out from behind a door. They both snapped their fingers; flames crackled to life in torches as about fifteen mages and twice as many Templars came out from behind statues and circled the party. The sisters, uneasy, began to murmur amongst themselves; the Revered Mother, however, cackled above the noises.

"Don't worry, girls," she laughed. "Just clearing out the trash! And look what it brought us!" She reached into her robes and pulled out a small bag that was obviously filled with coins.

A few gasps were heard in the crowd.

"How could you betray human lives for money?" a sister cried out indignantly; Eruestan recognized her as Sister Susanna.

"Quite easily," the old woman said maliciously. She turned to Cullen and the mage. "And again, I thank you, sers, for the kindness you have shown this chantry. I don't know _what_ we could have done without you."

Arlon walked through the crowd of sisters to kneel at Mother Agatha's feet. "It was my pleasure, Your Reverence," he said smoothly. "But I'm afraid there's one more thing Her Majesty requires of you."

"Oh?" the old woman asked, eyes gleaming. "And what would that be?"

The mage stood up silently and pulled out a dagger. "Her money back," he said dangerously.

The Revered Mother's smile faltered. "W-wha…no, you can't be—HELP! SOMEONE HE—"

Arlon's arm shot forward and sank the blade into the woman's chest. With a horrendous groan, she fell to the ground, blood seeping from her wound. The mage bent down and took the money bag from her twitching hands.

For a brief moment, an incredibly tense silence filled the chantry. Then the screaming began.

All the sisters sprang to their feet and fled to the exits, senseless with fear. The mage stood at the altar, seeming to take great joy in the chaos he had created. Rowena, Alistair, and Eruestan all exchanged furtive looks. Stretching slowly, Eruestan began to cast a freeze spell…

Then, all of a sudden, all his energy left him as if siphoned out. Horrified, he fell to his knees; beside him, Wynne and Morrigan did as well. Barely able to move, he turned his head to see Cullen staring gleefully at him, his arm outstretched.

"Not so mighty now, are you, mage?" he shouted, thrusting his arm out farther; Eruestan collapsed to the ground. "Men, surround them!" At his orders, the Templars stepped forward fast as sin and pressed their blades to the party's throats.

Back in her chamber, Leliana gave a start as the sounds of multiple screaming women filled the air. Rising to her feet, she opened the door and grabbed the one closest to her.

"What's going on?" she asked urgently. "Why's everyone running?"

The other sister was almost out of her mind in hysterics. "That man just killed her! In cold blood!"

Leliana's heart stopped. "What man?" she asked, horrified.

"That mage! He just walked up and stabbed the Revered Mother!"

Terrified, Leliana tightened her grip on the sister. "Sweet Andraste, Eruestan's lost his mind!" she screamed.

"I'll say he has! The Revered Mother turned the Grey Wardens over to him and everything, and he just walked up and killed her!"

Leliana stared at her. "She…turned the Grey Wardens over to him?"

"Yes!"

"The elf?"

A scream from the main hall made the sister start to try to tear away from her – Leliana slapped her in the face to calm her down.

"Tell me, _was it the elf?_" she shouted, trying to make sense of things.

"Y-yes," the girl whimpered, "and the King and Queen as well."

"No, no, was the killer the elf?"

"Wha-no, the killer was Orlesian!" There was a loud crack from the chantry; with a loud scream, the sister broke free and ran down the hallway.

Leliana stood frozen, letting the news sink in. The others were in danger, and they needed her. She looked back into her room. Only a trained eye could see it, but just barely jutting out from behind her armoire was a curved longbow and a deadly pair of hunting knives.

_This is completely stupid_, she thought desperately. _I promised myself I'd never expose myself to them again! I should just stay in here and ride out the—_

There was suddenly a loud bang and a large bout of screams. All caution thrown to the wind, Leliana jumped into her room and prepared for battle.

Arlon walked calmly through the herd of screaming sisters towards his quarry. Suddenly, something metal whacked the back of his head. Turning around, he saw Sister Susanna standing at the altar, glaring furiously at him. She took aim again with another candlestick.

"How quaint," he said sardonically. With a flick of his finger, she went flying back and hit the wall with a thud.

Turning around, he walked over to Cullen and smiled down at the Grey Wardens, who were now either on their knees or collapsed on the ground.

"Well, well," he grinned, "fancy meeting you here." He bent over Alistair, head cocked. "My king." He mocked bowed, then straightened and kicked him in the stomach; Alistair doubled over in pain.

With a roar, Rowena struggled to rise to her feet; Arlon, however, merely turned slightly and smacked her across the face. He yawned.

"They bore me," he said calmly. "Take them away."

"Shut up, mage!" Cullen said hotly, pushing him slightly aside. "These are my men! You can't tell them what to do! Men!" he said loudly. "Take the Grey Wardens away!"

The mage shot him a deadly look. "You are just a child playing at being a man," he said contemptuously. "You are not fit to lead these soldiers."

Cullen spat in his face. "At least I'm not a common murderer!" he said, outraged. "At least I don't go around killing old women for coin!"

"How dare you, you pathetic whelp! I'll—"

Suddenly, there was an enormous BANG and everyone in the vicinity was blasted back several feet. An odd ringing filled the air.

Too weak to even move, Eruestan still recognized the affects of a knockback arrow. Weakly, he tried to look around to see who had shot it; however, before he could look, a Templar lying next to him jumped to his feet with a roar and picked up his sword. Eruestan tried to shield his body, but he was far too late. The blade fell…

…and clattered to the floor as the Templar gave a low groan. Looking up in surprise, he saw a long arrow sticking out the eye-slits of the man's helmet. The soldier collapsed, his armor echoing throughout the chantry.

Eruestan lifted his head weakly to see something he had dreamed about many times. Down at the end of the chantry, a beautiful young woman with light red hair stood dressed in full battle regalia, a bow drawn taut.

Only this was no dream.

Leliana let her arrow fly – it embedded itself in a mage's neck as she tried to cast a lightning spell. Another arrow felled a Templar about to strike at Wynne.

Meanwhile, Rowena, Alistair, Sten, and Oghren all jumped to their feet with vicious battle cries. Baring her sword, Rowena ducked under a Templar's blade, leaned forward and stabbed the mage behind him, and then swirled around and cut the soldier's head off. Behind her, Alistair fended off two Templars at once. Parrying one's blow, he knocked the other to his feet with his shield.

Behind them, Sten cut through mages like a farmer in a field, swinging Asala back and forth like a scythe. Meanwhile, Oghren slammed his giant war hammer into one man's knee, and then pummeled his head as the man fell.

Leliana drew her last arrow and aimed it right at heart of one last mage. It sank into its target effortlessly. Of the forty-five soldiers originally fighting, roughly thirty remained, and that number was dropping. However, the Templars and the few remaining mages seemed to have recovered from their shock and were now fighting full force.

Leliana grimly swung her bow onto her back and drew her knives. Two Templars began to charge at her; she ran forward, jumped onto a pew, somersaulted over them, and then stabbed the two in the back through slits in their armor. Whirling around, she pulled out two tiny throwing knives and let them fly towards the throats of the next two Templars, who fell to the ground, writhing.

In front of her, Rowena and Alistair fought in a perfect circle, creating a ring of death that no soldier wished to enter. Oghren and Sten, too, were surrounded by a circle of carnage.

Out of the corner of her eye, Leliana saw a ruddy-haired man in mage robes move his hands. Quick as thought, she chucked another hidden blade at him – it hit his hand. Howling in agony, the man snarled at her and reached out with his other arm. However, before he could cast whatever spell he had in mind, Sten appeared from nowhere and knocked him to the ground with the hilt of his sword. Sten raised his weapon high and plunged it towards the mage…only to have it crash into the ground as the mage vanished in a ball of magical energy.

However, there was another man – a young one in Templar armor. He seemed oblivious to what was going on and was instead making a beeline towards the black-haired elf lying prostrate on the ground. With a growl of fear, Leliana ran forward as if she was flying. Jumping up, she plowed into the Templar feet first, knocking him straight on his back. She crouched over him and pounced to slit his throat.

Cullen saw the red-haired girl prepare to strike, and instinct kicked in. He quickly swept her legs out from under her, caught her mid-fall, and twisted her arm behind her back. She swirled around the other way and slashed at him with her other blade; he ducked back and dropped her, letting her fall to the floor. Poised to strike, he suddenly realized that he was alone – all his troops had been slain. Rowena Therin and the Qunari both looked up at him, murder written on their faces. Not sure which one he wanted to face the least, he backed away quickly from the girl he was fighting and vaulted himself through a broken window, escaping into the night.

Sten and Rowena both jumped forward to chase after Cullen; Alistair, however, stepped in front of them.

"Let him go," he said quietly. "I don't think we've seen the last of him."

Sten stared impassively at him; Rowena, however, gave a gasp of horror.

"Alistair, you're wounded!" she said, pointing at a nasty cut that ran across his cheek.

He grinned. "And so, might I add, are you." He pointed at the thin river of blood that was dripping down her leg.

She waved that off. "That's nothing. I've had worse. Here, I'll get Eruestan…"

Leliana, meanwhile, stared at the floor, entranced by the elf lying there. Shakily, she fell to her knees, hand over her mouth, as she gazed upon the face she so loved for the first time in what seemed like centuries. His eyes, the light grey of a cloudy afternoon, stared back at her in wonder.

"Leliana…" he breathed.

Her heart soared. Could he really still love her, after everything that had happened? Surely it wasn't possible!

_Of course he still cares for you_, an awful little voice inside her head reminded her. _He never found out what you did…_

She jumped to her feet in horror, fully realizing where she was and what she had done.

Rowena appeared out of nowhere, though, and hugged her around the waist.

"I knew you were just play-acting!" she whispered happily. "That was brilliant!"

"T-thank you," Leliana said shakily. Why were they all putting her through such torture?

Rowena dropped to her knees at Eruestan's side. "Eruestan, Alistair's injured."

He gave a weak laugh. "Rowena, I can barely move!"

"Oh, right." Looking around, she saw the bloodied corpse of a mage lying next to her. Rummaging through his robes, she pulled out a shining blue bottle of lyrium potion.

"Here," she said, handing it to him.

Feebly, he lifted his head and emptied the bottle. Instantly, energy flowed through his veins and he jumped to his feet. Suddenly, he slipped on something.

"Maker's breath, Rowena, is that your blood?"

"Never mind that, get to Alistair!"

Shaking his head, he ran over to his other friend, saw the scratch on his face, and laughed.

"Your wife is insane," he said as he sealed Alistair's cut.

"Don't I know it," he said fondly, smiling at her. "Seriously, though, go treat her before she passes out from blood-loss. I'll go check on Wynne."

"…and Morrigan, right?"

He sighed. "Fine, if we have to."

As Eruestan magically healed Rowena's injury, he could see that Leliana was standing as still as a statue in the center of the chantry. All of a sudden, fear gripped his heart. What was he going to say to her? What was going to happen? In just a few moments, he would either become the happiest man alive or the most miserable. The idea made him slightly sick to his stomach.

"Good luck," Rowena whispered as the last of the blue light surrounding her leg vanished.

He smiled uncertainly back, and walked towards Leliana.

She stared at him with an odd expression he couldn't read.

"Erm…hi…"

She gave a weak smile.

"Leli…I don't…you see…"

One thousand emotions and phrases exploded in his mind, things he had all practiced that he was going to say to her. Millions of heartfelt confessions and angry tirades crowded themselves so closely together that he couldn't distinguish them—and so he panicked, and left the emotion out of it.

"Leliana, we're here to ask you to join us," he said quickly, pulse racing. "Alistair and Rowena need your help in restoring the throne."

Leliana felt her face fall. This was not the romantic reunion she had envisioned – not that she deserved one, of course, but still, she'd have liked something more poetic. Perhaps a ballad? Bah. Men were so disappointing sometimes.

And then there was the request itself. How could she join them with full knowledge of the secret she bore? Here, locked away at the chantry, the guilt had eaten a hole in her heart—how would it feel when she was actually amongst them? No, she could never come along…

But then her eyes fell on a tapestry on the other side of the wall. It showed Archon Hessarian, the man who had presided over Andraste's execution, praying devoutly to her image. ATONEMENT was woven in large letters over him.

A flame lit inside her heart. This wasn't a curse – it was a blessing! This was surely the best way to pay for her sins. She looked back at Eruestan, fire in her eyes.

"I will come," she said hoarsely. "I will help."

Eruestan broke out into a huge smile. "Excellent!" He stopped, unsure of whether he should pursue his curiosity. "So…I was just wondering…why exactly—"

He was cut off by a loud whooping behind him. He whirled around to see Oghren triumphantly holding a lyrium bottle over his head.

"I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT!" he cheered, doing a rather obscene dance.

"Oghren, what on earth are you talking about?" Wynne said crossly as she rubbed her back. "I swear, if this has anything to do with alcohol…"

"Much as it pains me to say it, it doesn't." He shoved the bottle in her face. "D'ya see what this is?"

"…An empty lyrium bottle?"

He chuckled. "Look at the bottom."

She peered in closely. "Ugh, your fingernails are disgusting! When was the last time you trimmed them?"

"Not the nails, woman, the seal!" he growled, pointing. "Sodding nug balls, you can read dwarven, can't cha?"

Giving him a withering look, Wynne leaned in closer and read, " 'From the mines of House Rendrak.' " She stared down at him. "So?"

"So? The lyrium I'm after is from House Rendrak!"

Curious, Rowena bent down and looked through the mage's body where the lyrium had come from. She pulled out a sheet of paper. "This says here that he's from Lothering."

"So Lothering it is, then!" Oghren cheered.

"Not so fast," a stern voice said from behind them. Everyone turned around to see Sister Susanna standing in front of them, arms crossed.

Eruestan winced and looked around the chantry. Tapestries were torn off the walls, windows were broken, pews were smashed, and corpses littered the floors.

Turning back to her, he bowed his head and said, "Sister, I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to—"

She breezed right passed him and walked up to where Alistair and Rowena were standing sheepishly. For a long moment, she stared at them, face unreadable. Then she dropped to her knees respectfully.

"My king," she said quietly. "And my queen."

"You know, that's the first time someone's actually meant that in months," Alistair commented.

The sister rose to her feet. "I must admit, I'd always wondered whether or not I'd be brave enough to join a rebellion should the time come. However, if the men Anora Mac Tir patrons can invade a chantry and kill a Revered Mother, then I want no part in her regime." The sister looked them straight in the eye. "I shall spread word of your victories here, Your Majesties, and shall make sure Arl Wulff knows of how you behaved." She raised her head high. "As for us sisters…well, the Grey Wardens will always find someone to help them here, for whatever they need."

"Hmm…I might just take you up on that," Oghren said, eyes gleaming.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing!" Wynne said quickly. "Nothing at all!"

Sister Susanna smiled. "Then we're clear. I must go now, and explain what has happened to the other sisters. I'm afraid they're still a little hysterical. May the Maker watch over you all!"

She walked back towards the dormitories.

"Let's go," Alistair said. "We've got a long walk ahead of us if we're planning on getting to Lothering."

"Right," Eruestan said. However, he let the others file out the doors, and then sidled over to Leliana.

"Hey," he said slowly, "I was wondering if maybe we might be able to, you know, talk about a few things…"

She stared at him, and then shook her head.

"Oh! Well, it's just, I've been a little shell-shocked for a while now, and I was just wondering, you know, if maybe it was something _I_ did, or along those lines…"

Silence.

Desperate, his true feelings finally broke through the awkwardness."I mean, Maker's breath, Leliana, you have no idea how much I've missed you!"

He suddenly saw a tear fall gently down her face. Without a single word more to him, she pulled forward, wiping her face and falling in step with Wynne.

Eruestan stood there in the dark, stunned once again. However, the fact that she was going to be with him from now on was enough to keep his hope alive.

"After all," he said to himself as he ran to catch up, "there's always tomorrow for talking."


	10. Making Friends with the Dalish

The _Hanging Elf_ was completely out of control.

Eruestan swiftly picked up his mug of ale as a dwarf went sliding down the bar, thrown by the man he had been trying to swindle. The dwarf collided with a pile of dirty glasses with a loud clang and didn't get back up.

Eruestan sighed. He would have preferred to just go straight to camp instead of stopping here at the tavern. They had been on the road for a week now, and he was anxious to get to Lothering as fast as possible. However, Oghren had seen the sign for the tavern and practically begged everyone to stay for a drink. The others, tired of eating berries and nuts and drinking from streams, agreed. Reluctantly, Eruestan admitted he wanted to rest a bit as well, and they had gone in…and proceeded to stay for five hours. Night had long since come, and Eruestan was extremely anxious to get a move on.

He looked over his shoulder to see whether or not the others were as ready as he was. Beside him, Rowena and Alistair were politely listening to a drunkard's theory of why Andraste was the Maker's chosen.

"I mean, we all know she could sing," he slurred, "but I doan fink an'ones thought'a one fing: BREASTS."

"Oh!" Rowena and Alistair both said, startled.

He nodded vigorously. "Have you seen those statues? Fink about it. You're the Maker. You got all these spirits floatin' roundja an' all-a-sudden you look down an' see a fine pair of knockers way down yonder. It'd be enuff to send any man crazy."

"Erm…I guess you have a point…?" Alistair said uncertainly.

Rowena turned to him. "Are you telling me you've stared at Andraste's chest?"

"Well, I had to do something at the Chantry," he grinned.

The drunk shook his head. "An' don't even gemme started about the ass…"

On the other side of the tavern, Wynne and Oghren were drinking together – something that they surprisingly had in common. Sten stood like a statue in the back corner—so much so that a young bar-wench gave a giant scream that made everyone jump when she realized he wasn't. Leliana sat quietly, separated from the rest of the party and slowly twirling an untouched drink.

He stared longingly at her. It was a delicious torment, to be so close to her and yet so separated. He would have given anything to be sitting next to her right now. However, every time he tried to talk with her, she ran off without saying anything.

He took a deep breath. Now was not the time for reflection.

"Do not touch me, fool!" Morrigan snapped at a very tipsy elf who lingered a little too near her stool, jerking Eruestan out of his thoughts. The elf reeled back—his companions drew him in nearer and shot her a nasty look.

Eruestan looked back at them. They were Dalish elves: everything from their armor to their tattoos revealed that. Five years ago, people would have run for the hills screaming if a group of Dalish had approached a human town. Things had changed, though. The elves now had their own homeland, and relationships between the two races had come to a tentative peace.

However, these elves seemed to have forgotten this. They sent a glare of extreme hatred at the humans seated at the bar, a hatred that was translated to Eruestan as well. To a Dalish, elves who went out of their way to associate with humans were traitors of the foulest kind. Eruestan guessed this was justifiable – after all, humans had destroyed the elven homelands not once but twice, and elves were even still slaves in Tevinter. Of course, it was a little hard to be sympathetic towards them when he was one of those being prejudiced against.

An elf caught Eruestan staring and gave him a death glare. Blushing, Eruestan turned away quickly and resumed looking around the bar. By chance, his gaze fell upon Leliana's. For a long moment, neither of them broke it. However, she suddenly dropped her eyes down to the table, ashamed.

Emboldened, Eruestan stood up and walked over to her. "Erm…hi…"

She nodded, still not looking at him.

_WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?_ he wanted to shout desperately. Instead, he asked lamely, "So…how's your ale?"

She looked up at him, confused. "Did you really just ask me how I liked my ale?"

"…Yes…?"

She stared at him as if he had crawled out of the Deep Roads. "But…after all those conversations you have tried to start…"

"Which we can go into right now, if you're willing," he said quickly.

"My ale's fine, thanks," she said just as rapidly.

He laughed, a little ruefully. "Can I sit down?"

She laughed sadly and nodded.

"So, this place is…exciting…"

"Yes, it is rather different from the chantry," she said.

"Oh, really?" He grinned at her. "I thought all the Chantry sisters were heavy partiers and drinkers."

She giggled in spite of herself, trying to imagine some of the sterner sisters with a mug of ale in their hands. Suddenly, she remembered something and completely forgot her vow of silence. "That reminds me of a story I used to tell to amuse the children in Orlais, about a Revered Mother in Highever who was on her deathbed. The sisters were running around frantically trying to make her comfortable. One sister decided to spike the Mother's milk with a bit of mead to ease her pain. The Mother took a sip from the glass, then grabbed it and chugged it down in a few seconds. She lay back and sighed happily. 'Your Reverence, do you have any advice for us?' one of the sisters asked hurriedly."

"What'd she say?" Eruestan asked, smiling.

Leliana leaned in. " 'Don't sell that cow.' "

Eruestan laughed, his eyes twinkling. Leliana caught her breath. How much she had loved to be looked at by those eyes…how much she had cherished waking up to them every morning…how she had feared what they would look like if he found out her shame…

With a gasp, she started to stand up…and crashed right into the Dalish elf standing over her. She sat back down, stunned.

"Hey there, beautiful," he slurred, eyes unfocused. Eruestan saw that it was the elf that had wandered too near Morrigan earlier. "How's 'bout you leave this weaklin' 'n I'll show you how a real elf acts?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she murmured demurely.

"That's not the answer I was lookin' for," he said, leaning a little closer.

"Hey, she said get lost!" Eruestan said hotly.

One of the elf's friends showed up behind him. "Arandur, just leave her alone, alright?"

"Shove off, Gondian!" he said angrily. "I'm busy."

"She's human," the elf said with disgust. "She's not worth your time."

"I'll decide who's worth my time and who isn't! Look at her! She's hotter than any elf in the clan!" He leaned in dangerously close to Leliana. "Say, why don't we get out of here? I've got something I wanna ask you in private."

For a second, Leliana's eyes flashed dangerously. Then, she smiled sweetly and said, "You know, I rather like the way you're talking."

Eruestan started. "You do?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, like _you_ know anything about _me_!" She winced at the hurt in his eyes. However, if this was going to be convincing…

She turned back to the drunk elf and giggled. "You look like you need help with something."

He smiled wolfishly and said, "Do I? With what?"

"Your belt just looks so tight," she said, eyes widening. "Here, let me…loosen that for you…"

Eruestan stared at her, horrified. She ignored him and reached for the elf's pants…

Fast as sin, she grabbed his knife from his belt and leapt to her feet, pressing the blade against his throat.

"_Shue shah tauthau toetoi thuet_," she snarled. I don't want to kill you.

The elf's lust changed to fear so fast that Leliana thought he wet himself. His friend, however, put his hand on his sword and said, "_Pedach Elvhellan?_"

"_Mae_," she said, staring at him defiantly.

He narrowed his eyes. "_O man dôr túliel le_?"

"_Órlais_," she said calmly.

The elf looked at her suspiciously. "How is it that a human from Orlais happens to speak Elvish?"

"Let's not talk about that right now, Gondian!" Arandur said nervously, wincing as Leliana increased the pressure behind the blade.

His friend hushed him. "Let him go," he said viciously. "You don't want to start anything with us." He gestured back to their party, who all stood up. "Look—it's five to two. You wouldn't stand a chance."

As if on cue, Alistair and Rowena appeared out of nowhere behind him. "Is everything alright?" Alistair asked calmly.

"We'd hate for there to be trouble," Rowena said sweetly.

Behind them, Sten and Morrigan straightened up and fingered their weapons, casting a huge aura of intimidation. Wynne and Oghren were less impressive – Wynne stood up, then lost her balance and fell back into her seat; Oghren just giggled and downed the last of his mug.

However, the effect was still there, and the elves visibly faltered. A strange look fell across Gondian's face. His gaze fell from Alistair to Rowena to Eruestan, then back to Alistair again. Suddenly, his eyes widened. Leaning over, he quickly whispered something in his friend's ear. Arandur started, causing the blade to cut a little into his throat; strangely enough, he didn't seem to mind.

Gondian quickly put his hands up in the air in a sign of peace. "Forgive us. We must have drank too much. We'll make sure Arandur doesn't bother anyone else tonight."

Leliana did not seem convinced; her grasp on the dagger was as firm as ever.

"Please, miss," the elf said calmly. "We'll leave quietly."

"Gondian, what are you talking about?" one of the other elves asked angrily. "We could definitely take them!"

Gondian leaned over and whispered something quickly. All three elves straightened up suddenly and averted their gazes.

"Again, miss, please release our friend," Gondian said calmly. "He didn't mean any harm, I promise."

Reluctantly, Leliana loosened her grip and slowly pulled the knife away. Arandur took a deep breath and ran back to the safety of his friends. Bowing his head, Gondian quickly led the group out the door.

Eruestan frowned. "That was…really weird."

"I think we should go," Rowena said nervously. "Maybe they're planning on coming back with more men or something."

Eruestan nodded. "Let's get out of here."

"But I just got started!" Oghren shouted. He slammed his hand on the table, and then passed out.

"Lovely," Alistair muttered. "Who's gonna carry him back?"

Silence.

" 'Oh no, Alistair, don't worry, _I'll_ carry the two-hundred pound dwarf for five miles along the Bannorn. You already do so much for us! No problem!' "

Again, silence.

"Sten, what about you? You could probably _throw_ Oghren there if you wanted to—"

Sten responded by walking out the door.

"I hate you all," Alistair muttered, stooping down and heaving Oghren over his shoulder.

It was pitch black outside the tavern. A small breeze caused the sign hanging outside to creak ominously. To break the silence, Eruestan quickly whispered a small spell; a ball of yellow light illuminated the countryside for them.

As they walked, Eruestan got the vague suspicion that they were being followed. The light from his spell was casting long shadows upon the countryside, and he kept seeing enemies in the trees. He fingered one of his swords uneasily; something wasn't right.

Suddenly, a twig snapped in the forest. He jumped visibly.

"You alright there?" Rowena asked, alarmed.

"Er…yes…just being paranoid, that's all," he said, embarrassed.

"It's this night," she said nervously. "It's too dark…You can't see whether or not someone is watching you."

"Let's not worry anybody," Eruestan said quietly. "It's probably nothing."

Rowena frowned, but nodded.

They walked on further in silence. Eruestan's ears twitched all of a sudden; he thought he heard someone cough in the distance.

He whirled around, searching for a sign of anyone else. Elves traditionally had better eyesight and hearing than humans, so he knew if he didn't see anything, no one else would. But still, only darkness looked back.

With a snap of his fingers, Eruestan banished the light to nothingness.

"Hey!" everyone shouted.

"I think we're being followed," he said quickly. 'We just have to keep quiet and—"

Then Oghren woke up.

"What in the name of the Stone are you doing?" he shouted. "Where's my ale?"

"Oghren!" Eruestan hissed. "Shut up!"

Something rushed past in the night.

"Whaddya mean, shut up? Put me down!" Oghren started beating down on Alistair's back.

"What the—OI!" Alistair shouted, dumping Oghren on the ground.

"Think you can carry a dwarf, eh? How 'bout I take you down?" Oghren plowed into Alistair, throwing him to the ground.

"GET OFF HIM!" Rowena shouted, throwing herself into the fray. The three grappled with each other, all swearing at the top of their lungs.

"How perfectly delightful," Morrigan drawled. "'Tis brilliant—let us all fight in the middle of the night when enemies are approaching.

"SHUT UP!" Eruestan whispered urgently. "We need to stay qui—"

Suddenly, something flew through the air and ended in a loud PHUNK. Sten gave a loud groan and collapsed to the ground.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.

There was a distant grunt; suddenly, Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne all fell to the ground as well.

Eruestan quickly pulled out his staff and tried to conjure up a shield charm; however, something struck his hand like a hammer before he could cast the spell. With a yelp, he dropped his weapon to the ground. He looked down to see a large rock lying on the ground.

"EVERYONE, THEY'RE JUST—"

There was another series of grunts, and Eruestan dropped to the ground desperately. He looked up to see four rocks fly through the air with deadly accuracy. They collided with Alistair, Rowena, and Oghren with a sickening thud; they all groaned and keeled over.

Hand throbbing, Eruestan reached for his other blade. _If I'm going down, I'm going to take as many of the bastards with me as possible,_ he thought wildly.

He stood up to make his last stand…and was promptly struck in the forehead.

Pain exploded inside his head.

Then, complete darkness.


	11. Family Ties

Eruestan came to in a place as far opposite from the _Hanging Elf_ as possible.

He was kneeling down in the center of a large marble ruin, hands tied behind his back. The others, all sporting large bruises, were in a similar position. Eruestan winced as his hand gave a sudden jolt of pain. _Definitely broken_, he thought miserably.

But that was going to have to wait for now. There was a rather more pressing matter that was going to need to be taken care of.

At the moment, about thirty elves stood around them, all armed to the tooth.

Eruestan gulped. This was going to be tricky.

However, before he had a chance to form any battle plans, one elf stood out from the circle. She had long brown hair, kind eyes, and very, _very_ large ears.

"_Andaran atish'an_, Grey Wardens," she said calmly.

"Lanaya?" Eruestan said incredulously. Lanaya had led the Dalish elves during the Blight, and was now the unofficial ruler of the various clans.

She bowed her head. "It is good to see you, _lethallin_." She turned to the other elves. "You see, my brethren? These are the Grey Wardens who have been such friends of the People."

An old man spat at them. "Bah! I see no heroes, or friends! I see only four _shemlens_, a _durgen'len_, a Qunari, and a blood-traitor. How dare you defile this meeting of the Council with such scum, Lanaya?"

"We need their help, Erynion," Lanaya said clearly. "Surely you can agree with that."

"Like they could offer us help," the man said contemptuously. "They are too weak to do anything."

Oghren murmured something.

"What was that, _durgen'len_?" the old man barked.

"I believe it was an implication that he would have strength enough to have relations with your mother, unless I am much mistaken," Morrigan said calmly.

Wynne groaned. "I really don't think this is the time for this."

"Well, it's true," Oghren chuckled.

"Enough!" the old man snapped. "Can't you see, my brothers and sisters? We should kill these Grey Wardens on the spot for their disrespect."

"Erynion, how can you say that?" a brown-haired elven man said from the other side of the circle. "Your own daughter was killed by this creature!"

"And she would be enraged to think strangers avenged her!" The old man stood up, livid. "The idea of my Alya being in debt to these fools! _Rhachon le_, Landion! And you, Saerwen, who has lost so many of her clan to this fiend! How can you ask them to accept the aide of these strangers, these traitors, in bringing about the death of a monster? _D__ô__l lost l__î__n._"

"_Sa farn palan_," Lanaya said firmly. "Erynion, remember that no clan has the right to insult one another during the Council."

Leliana gasped.

"Yes?" an elven woman asked suspiciously.

"Nothing…it's just, I have always wanted to see a session of the Council of the Dales!" Leliana said excitedly.

"You know of our customs, _shemlens_?" the woman asked curiously.

"Yes, and she also speaks Elvish," someone said loudly. Eruestan looked over to see Gondian standing beside them.

Lanaya nodded. "I remember, from the Blight. You had knowledge of the People beyond that of even Zathrian."

"_Ma serannas,_ Keeper," Leliana said shyly.

"And you are welcome." Lanaya stood up straighter. "So, Leliana, I presume you know the reasoning behind a meeting of the Council?

She nodded. "The Council is called together whenever a threat arises that affects every clan of the Dalish."

"Unfortunately, you are correct. A great evil has descended upon the People, and we are powerless to stop it."

Cries of outrage fell from the lips of several of the representatives. Lanaya held up a hand.

"If we are ever to solve our problems, we must have the forbearance to admit our weaknesses and accept help," she said firmly. "Every party we have sent out has disappeared. Our hunters have been found dead. Our children have gone missing. How are we to end this if we cannot turn to others for assistance?"

"What exactly is happening?" Eruestan said worriedly.

Lanaya sighed. "It started about two months ago. One of my hunters went out in the morning to try and find game. He did not return. His body was found a week later, shriveled up as if someone had sucked the years out of him. We searched high and low for his murderer, but there was no trace to be found. We pegged it to fate, packed our camp, and left. Then the next hunter went missing…"

"We soon came into contact with our brothers and sisters from the other clans, and they, too, claimed to have something stalking their hunters. Search parties were sent out—none returned alive. Every corpse we find looks the same as the first—withered, almost mummified." She shuddered. "Something terrible is killing our People, and we must stop it!"

Alistair coughed.

"Is there a problem, _shemlen?_" a young woman asked.

"You mean other than the fact that I was knocked out and kidnapped?"

"Naw, I think she was aware of that, mate," Eruestan said, grinning.

"Well, in that case, nope, not much."

One of the Keepers gave Gondian a stern look. "I apologize for that, Grey Warden. Gondian is one of my hunters, and I'm afraid he was a little too…_forward_ in his intentions."

"_Forward?_" Rowena said indignantly. "He had us knocked unconscious! With rocks!"

"Again, Grey Warden, my apologies." The Keeper smiled sadly. "However, this quest has taken a personal note with Gondian and my clan."

"How so, boy?" one of the other Keepers asked.

Gondian straightened up. His mouth was firm; however, his eyes were tormented. "Yesterday, my wife's brother was kidnapped by the beast."

Murmurs came from the crowd; a young woman with long black hair stepped forward.

"I have searched high and low for Marcaunon," she said. "And yet I cannot find him. I fear the worst."

_Marcaunon?_ Eruestan thought wildly. _No, no, it can't be him…it must be a common name, that's all…_

"I am sorry, Herenya," Lanaya said solemnly. Eruestan gasped; the name triggered a memory of a young black-haired girl playing tag with him. Could these elves possibly be who he thought they were?

Lanaya turned back to the group. "So now you see our sorrow. We elves are strong people—however, this is a task that is too great for us alone. I beseech you, Grey Wardens, help our people to rid ourselves of this evil once and for all."

Eruestan looked at the woman named Herenya. There was worry written in her eyes—eyes almost the exact same shade of grey as his…

"We'll do it," he said suddenly.

"What?" Wynne and Morrigan exclaimed.

"We have to help," Eruestan said, amazed how his voice seemed to be speaking for itself. "We're Grey Wardens—it's what we do."

Wynne blanched. "This sounds like blood magic of the worst kind, Eruestan. I don't like it."

"Neither do I," he said. "But that doesn't change what's right or what's wrong."

She nodded reluctantly.

"I for one shall not stand for it!" Morrigan said sharply. "This is foolishness of the worst degree! Why should we put ourselves in danger for those who view us as inferiors? Besides, were we not on the way to Lothering to help with Oghren?"

Oghren grunted. "The way I see it, here we'll be able to smash some heads and see some action. The best we'd get in Lothering is lyrium poisoning. I'm all for this."

"Morrigan, we really should help," Rowena said quickly. "The Dalish helped us during the Blight—we need to return the favor."

The witch huffed impatiently. "I suppose 'tis true…"

Lanaya gave a sigh of relief. "Wonderful. Gondian, Herenya, talk to the Grey Wardens and give them directions to where Marcaunon was last seen. Good luck to you, Grey Wardens. May Mythal the Protector watch over you on your travels."

"Thank you, Keeper," Eruestan said.

Lanaya snapped her fingers, and the bonds holding everyone's hands back disappeared. She and the others then left for their various camps.

With a sigh of relief, Eruestan began to stretch his arms…only to yell in pain when he tried to move his hand.

"Oh, dear," Wynne said, running forward. "Let me help…" She gently picked up his hand and whispered a few words; instantly, there was a warm glow emanating from it that quickly healed his fractured bones.

"Excellent," he said appreciatively.

"And now for the others…" With a wave of her hands, Wynne bathed everyone in a blue light that made their various bruises vanish. Rowena walked quickly over to Eruestan.

"Did you hear what they were saying?" she said urgently. "About the elf that's missing? Do you think he's your…"

"I don't know," Eruestan said quietly. "I guess we'll find out."

The party approached Gondian and Herenya silently.

"Awk-ward," Alistair said under his breath.

Gondian bowed. "I apologize, Grey Wardens. I was unaware of another way to get you to come to us."

"Riiight, because asking us to follow you would have been too easy," Alistair said.

The elf ignored him. "Marcaunon is a much-loved member of our clan. He is like a brother to me, in more ways than one." He put his arm around his wife. "I am glad you have decided to look for him."

"Where was he last seen?" Eruestan asked quickly, mildly embarrassed by the praise.

"Marcaunon likes to hunt alone, and away from the normal sites," Herenya said quietly. "I would start looking near the old Tevinter ruins in the middle of the forest. Perhaps you can find some clues as to where he is from there."

"Thank you," Eruestan said; she nodded.

Rowena nudged him in the side. "Go talk to her," she whispered.

Eruestan nodded. "Could I speak with you in private?" he asked the elf hesitantly.

She looked at him strangely, but nodded and walked away with him.

Unsure of how to begin, Eruestan opened his mouth and started to speak.

"Be quiet," Herenya said tensely.

Startled, Eruestan's mouth hung slightly open.

She turned around and looked him straight in the eye. "I know what you want to talk about."

"Y-you do?"

"Of course. Your last name is Surana, you're from the Denerim Alienage, not to mention you look just like the both of us…" She stared at him defiantly. "You're our long-lost brother."

"Um…I guess…" he said slowly. "Yay?"

She shook her head. "No. Not 'yay'. You destroyed our family!"

Eruestan stood there, stunned.

Herenya got into his face. "You know what happened after you were taken away to be a mage? Huh? Our mother _died._ She just gave up. Stopped eating. Stopped sleeping. Completely wasted away. After she died, Father committed suicide. And there we were, five children completely alone in the world. We were sent to the orphanage, made to beg for scraps. Did you ever have to put up with that? Did you suffer the thousand humiliations that we did? Did you have to live through raids, and plagues, and famines? Marcaunon and I eventually got so sick of it that we ran away to join the Dalish. Helenniel became a servant; Beriadanwen and Máfortian were sent to Gwaren. And what about you? You got to become a mage, and a Grey Warden, and a friend to the King. You are not a part of this family, elf. You aren't even a member of the People. Look at you; you even sound like a _shemlen_."

"I was raised in the Circle," he said, dazed, his rote response for when elves called him out on his different accent. He shook his head, and a little bit of indignation flared up inside him. "I'm sorry, but wasn't I taken by force from the Alienage after I froze a soldier to a tree?"

The girl crossed her arms. "You ruined our family. That's all that matters." She took a step forward. "Find Marcaunon. Redeem yourself. _Save our brother_."

"I-I will," Eruestan stammered, completely thrown off.

She shot him a look of supreme contempt. "I doubt it," she said darkly. Without a backwards glance, she headed off to her camp.

_Some reunion this turned out to be_, Eruestan thought bitterly.

The next morning, the party headed out before sunrise. Still smarting from the night before, Eruestan led the way, not wanting to talk to anyone. Which, of course, meant that everyone wanted to talk to him.

Rowena: "So, did it go well? Eruestan? Was she your sister? Hellloooo?"

Alistair: "Soo…Rowena told me to talk to you because you're scaring her or something. So, uh, you alright there, mate? Mate? Ok, cool, glad we had this chat."

Wynne: "I think Oghren stepped in some poison ivy, but I'd really rather not go near his feet, so if you could just…look, I know it's revolting, but don't I at least get a response? Well! If you're going to look at me like _that_ I'll just ask Morrigan to do it!"

Morrigan: "Kindly tell Wynne that I am not here to identify the fungal infections rampant on dwarven feet. Eruestan? Are you…_ignoring _me? Well, I…! I would expect this from Alistair, but not from you! Hmph. Perchance there will be more than one person afflicted with a fungal infection tonight."

"LOOK, I DON'T WANT TO TALK, OK?" Eruestan shouted, spinning around to face whoever had approached from behind him. It was Leliana.

"Well, that's fine, but there's something I need to show you," she said breezily.

"Er…yeah, let's do that," Eruestan muttered embarrassed.

Leliana pointed to a large boulder carved to resemble an eagle. "This isn't Elven," she said quietly. "These are Tevinter markings. I think we're getting closer."

"Great," he said. "Look, I didn't mean to yell…"

She waved him off. "You don't want to talk," she said pointedly. "I understand."

He blushed as he realized what she meant. "Point taken," he mumbled, crushed.

Suddenly, there was a light touch on his arm. He looked up to see her hand on his shoulder. She looked at him with a mixture of pain and affection. Then she turned around and walked on.

"Well, THAT was a mixed message," he said to no one.

The group walked on for another hour, passing under countless trees, tripping over hidden roots, and frightening away small animals. The sun began to blaze down on their necks.

Eruestan looked up into the sky, to see if he could determine the time by the sun's position. However, something just barely peeking over the trees made him jump visibly.

"Everyone, look!" he said in awe, pointing up.

There were collected gasps of wonder as everyone raised their gazes up to the tree line. Towering over the trees was a giant head.

"It's a statue," Leliana whispered. "The Imperium constructed them to remind everyone they ruled over of their power. This is probably over one thousand years old."

"Let's go," Eruestan said. "This is probably where Marcaunon was."

The party approached the statue with mild trepidation. It was even more massive when you could see its body.

"It's almost like it could come to life or something," Alistair breathed.

Rowena nodded. She looked down to see what it rested on…and suddenly gasped.

"Look!" she cried.

Lying at the base of the statue was a corpse.

Eruestan ran forward and pushed the body onto its back. Staring down at it, a wave of nausea swept over him, and he felt like he was going to retch.

The corpse looked like its flesh had shrunk a size far too small for it. Its lips had disappeared, giving it a horrible, leering grin. Vacant eyes bulged out of their sockets. A few scraggly strands of hair were all that remained on the body's scalp.

"The poor thing," Wynne said sympathetically. "I hope it went quick."

"You don't think this is who we're looking for, do you?" Rowena asked nervously.

Eruestan shook his head. "No, from what I remember the only one of us to have blond hair was my younger sister."

Rowena jumped up and squealed, "I knew she was your sister! She just had to be! Oh, Eruestan, I'm so happy for you!" She turned to the others delightedly. "Eruestan found his family!"

Leliana jumped up too. "This is just like in all the tales! The hero is taken away from his family and ends up saving them when he returns!" She and Rowena hugged each other happily and began to jump up and down.

"For the love of the Maker, stop!" Eruestan snapped, glaring at them. They froze, confusion spreading across their faces. Eruestan sighed. "Look…they don't want anything to do with me, alright? They think I killed our parents and caused them to be split all across Thedas." He looked away. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Alistair crouched down beside him. "Do you remember Goldanna?" Alistair asked calmly.

Eruestan nodded; she had been Alistair's half-sister whom he had tried to reach out to during the Blight. She basically turned him out on his ass.

"Look, people are odd, alright? Especially if they've had a rough time of things. From what it sounds like, your family's had it really rough. And now that your brother's missing…all I'm saying is that you shouldn't let whatever she said get to you, alright? At least not now."

Eruestan hung his head.

Alistair tried again. "Look, do you remember what you and Rowena told me when I was like this with Goldanna? That you guys were all the family I needed?"

Eruestan nodded.

"Well, maybe you should think about that too. We're you're family. Maker's breath, Eruestan, you're like a brother to me and Rowena—which, considering that we're married, should disturb us all a little—anyway, we're all really close."

Eruestan smiled. "Thanks," he said quietly. He then looked up. "So wait, if I'm both your brothers, does that make you two…"

"Let's not even go there," Alistair said quickly, shaking his head.

Eruestan looked back at the body. Its state implied a magical death; however, it was a spell that he didn't recognize.

"Wynne, Morrigan, let's take a look," he said. The two women bent down over the corpse and held their hands out over it. For a brief moment, the three explored the aura over the body, searching for any key signs of blood magic. Suddenly, however, there was a huge flash of something evil, and the three were blasted back.

Morrigan sat up, dazed. She gently rubbed her forehead.

"You alright?" Eruestan asked, concerned.

'Ye-s," she said, looking very confused. "'Tis…difficult to describe. While I am not certain as to what that was, I am quite sure that I have sensed it before." She shook her head. "'Tis very familiar…'tis as if I am hearing a song again for the first time in a very long period, only I cannot remember the words." She blinked suddenly. "Odd…'tis vanished."

Everyone fidgeted nervously. Leliana, however, looked up and asked, "Well, can you take us any further from here?"

Eruestan nodded. "Now that we've got a sample of magic that's going on around here, we should be able to trace it to where it originated."

Focusing, Eruestan touched a hand to the corpse and pointed another one into the air. There was a weird rushing noise, and all of a sudden a small yellow beam of light flew from the body into the air, shimmering over the trees.

"So it's kind of like finding the gold at the end of the rainbow," Alistair said, impressed.

"Yeah, only the gold is some evil monster that sucks your soul out," Rowena snorted.

As the party walked on, Eruestan began to notice some very serious changes in the forest. All wildlife was gone, leaving a hollow sound to the now empty trees. Even the trees seemed different; their leaves did not rustle with the breeze, and their branches seemed to curl in upon themselves. It was very unsettling.

About another hour later, Morrigan froze in the middle of the path, eyes wide open.

"'Tis started again," she whispered, voice shaking slightly. "Only this time, 'tis stronger—much stronger. This is a great evil indeed."

"Do you remember what it is yet?" Eruestan asked worriedly.

She shook her head. "But I can promise you that we will not like it, whatever it is."

Death now seemed to surround them. Dead animals, dead trees, dead flowers…and dead travelers. All along the forest, the shriveled-up corpses of dwarves, humans, and above all elves littered the ground. Rowena and Alistair instinctively drew closer together, while Leliana drew her bow, prepared for anything.

The group moved slowly, uneasily looking about what seemed to them was an unending cemetery. They stepped out of the forest into a little clearing.

The clearing contained what looked like a normal camp…or at least, what _would_ look like a normal camp, were it not for the fact that the ground was covered in half-eaten corpses.

"What is this place?" Alistair said in disgust.

Suddenly, there was a loud rushing noise. The group looked around to see to its horror that a solid wall of vegetation was growing around the camp, trapping them in. They could hear a distant cackle.

Suddenly, Morrigan gave a blood-curdling scream. She fell to her knees and grabbed Eruestan and Rowena's hands.

"HELP ME!" she screeched. "I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! HELP ME!"

Eruestan stared in terror, having never seen Morrigan like this. He bent over her.

"Morrigan, what is it?" he shouted urgently.

However, before she could reply, she froze, eyes glazing over. Without a sound, she fell to the ground, twitching horribly.

Everyone in the party drew their weapons instantly. Eruestan quickly scanned the trees, looking for an attacker while Wynne dropped to her knees to try and help her.

It was then that he saw it.

There was a tiny ripple in the growth encircling the clearing, and from it a horrendous creature walked forth. It looked like a man—however, its body was at angles and moved awkwardly, as if controlled by a puppeteer. Waves of evil magic emanated from it, washing over Eruestan and making him feel sick.

The creature stopped about ten feet away from them, staring at the ground. Then, it slowly lifted its head and gave a hideous cackle.

Eruestan took in a sharp, horrified breath. He recognized that laugh.

The creature's gaze focused on him. It was the face of a handsome young man…then, with a flash, it morphed into the face of a wizened old woman…a woman Eruestan knew fairly well…a woman he had good reason to fear.

"Flemeth," Eruestan said, terrified.


	12. Fading Away

Eruestan sat in the Royal Courtyard of Denerim, hands tied behind his back.

_What the…how did I get _here_?_

The rest of the party surrounded him, bound in the same way. Looks of terror were etched on their faces. Eruestan followed their gazes forward and jolted in fear.

Directly in front of them was a giant executioner's block.

For a moment, Eruestan could not process what his eyes were telling him. _We've…failed? What? How? We're going to DIE?_

His heart rate increased tenfold, and he began to breathe heavily. This was what he had dreamt in his worst nightmares, and now it was coming true.

"GREY WARDENS!" a voice shouted gleefully; Eruestan glanced up to see Anora laughing merrily from a palace balcony. "YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF HIGH TREASON! THE SENTENCE OF THIS COURT IS THAT YOUR HEADS BE REMOVED FROM YOUR BODIES, AND MAY THE MAKER HAVE MERCY ON YOUR SOUL!"

There was a loud clang, and the giant gates to Fort Drakon opened. Eruestan went numb with fear as a giant man bearing a bloodied axe stepped forward. The blade was very heavy, and looked very dull.

Faced with death, Eruestan suddenly became very calm. Now was not the time to shake like a coward—there was no way his pride would allow Anora to make a fool of him. He stared with contempt and wonder at his terrified companions; he had always assumed that they wre made of stronger stuff.

The executioner stopped in front of the block, silent as stone. He gestured towards Rowena; two guards stepped forward and began to drag her to the scaffold. She let out a blood-curdling, terrified scream.

Eruestan froze.

Rowena had just screamed.

Rowena had just screamed?

"Screaming" and "Rowena" just did not go well together, like "society" and "Morrigan", or "laughter" and "Sten". Rowena could cry, she could shout, she could yell, but she never screamed. Eruestan had seen her be mauled by spiders, dragged down a hill by reanimated corpses, even trapped in the mouth of an Archdemon, but he had never heard her sound so utterly terrified.

And why was Alistair just sitting there? Rowena was now being pulled up the steps by her hair, and Alistair was just shaking like a leaf, not doing anything! The Alistair Eruestan knew would fight like an animal to save Rowena until he was dead. Hell, he'd probably still fight after death too! Something was not right.

Then he saw it. Just barely peaking over a cloud, unable to be masked, was a distant, blackened spire.

"I'm in the Fade," Eruestan breathed.

There was a giant CRACK, and a huge flash of light enveloped the courtyard. As it disappeared, Eruestan saw something completely different.

The palace had been replaced by a barren landscape of bizarre cliffs and valleys. The clear sky was now a hazy brown that vanished into darkness. In the distance, the Black City floated ominously on a vast abyss.

However, most disturbing of all were the demons descending on him.

Hands still tied behind his back, Eruestan rolled backwards and jumped to his feet to avoid a giant blast of flame sent his way by a rage demon. Snarling, he whispered a fire spell that caused his bonds to fall away harmlessly. He quickly drew his blades, tensing for battle.

Eruestan jumped forward, blocking a demon's blow with one sword while swirling around and cutting it in two with the other. He bent back suddenly, avoided a fiery swipe; snapping back forward, he stabbed it in the head and heart simultaneously.

Suddenly, fire bloomed across his stomach as a pair of fiery hands grabbed him from behind; the demon who had masqueraded as the executioner was having his say. Pain blossomed across Eruestan's torso; thinking quickly, Eruestan clasped his hands to the demon's arm, shouting ancient words.

The demon howled in pain and dropped him. Eruestan looked back to watch it tremble in agony, ice crawling up its body. With a final terrible cry, the demon froze solid and then shattered into tiny pieces.

The rest of the demons roared in anger, balls of fire forming in their hands. Breathing heavily, Eruestan thrust his arms out in front of him. A solid wave of freezing cold air emanated from him, blasting into the demons and freezing them solid.

Eruestan panted, pain stabbing from his burns. He closed his eyes and focused his energies into healing himself. The wounds vanished in the typical flash of blue light.

He stood up, surveying the damage. Demons surrounded him, frozen in various positions.

_Just like old times_, he thought dryly.

That reminded him of something. He looked around, trying to find the ancient pedestal that had transported him from place to place the last time he had been trapped in the Fade. It was nowhere to be seen.

_But…it was always right here…how am I supposed to find the others without it? I can't just be stuck here forever!_

He began to run forward, wondering if maybe it wasn't tucked away behind some statue. To his dismay, the landscape ran with him. He picked up speed; however, the faster he tried to run, the faster the mountains and the land went with him.

He sat down in frustration, unsure of what to do.

"Did they ever teach us at the Circle what to do at times like this?" he asked aloud. He thought back to his days as an apprentice. His lessons on the Fade had been shaky at best—every time an enchanter had started to go into depth, a Templar would cough loudly and suggest that everyone have a nice dish of ice cream.

Eruestan sighed. Like it was so terrible that a mage study magic.

"Well, I won't solve anything by sitting on my arse," he said resolutely. Squaring his shoulders, he stood up…and was suddenly in a tent.

It was dark and deathly still. However, the quiet was sporadically interrupted by the sounds of a ferocious battle raging outside. What was worse, the battle seemed to be getting closer.

_Whose dream is this?_ Eruestan thought curiously, relieved to be somewhere different. He walked to the entrance to try and find someone…and jumped a foot in the air when Wynne groaned feebly underneath him.

"Wynne! Are you alright?"

She smiled weakly. "I've been better. Haven't you heard, Eruestan? My time has come. I'm dying." Her eyes became distant. "The Spirit has failed me, and I have f-failed you all."

Eruestan bent down and grasped her hand. "Wynne, it's ok! We're in—"

"No, it isn't," she said sadly, weakly shaking her head. "Listen." Eruestan complied—it did sound quite horrible. Giant explosions and horrible screams filled the air, and they were getting closer all the time.

"Fitting that I should fail you all when you needed me the most," she said, voice trembling.

"Wynne, it's alright, you're—"

He was cut off as someone entered the tent.

"Leliana," Wynne said weakly, "what are you doing here?

She fell to her knees. "Oh, Wynne, we need you!" she cried desperately. "Alistair's bleeding heavily, Sten's lost an arm, and M-Morrigan…" She broke off into a sob. "Please, Wynne, if you could just try…"

"Don't listen to her, Wynne," Eruestan said sharply. "This isn't real. You're in the Fade."

"Thank you for trying to comfort me, Eruestan," Wynne said, a tear running down her face. "But it's no use. We all knew this would happen…" (her voice broke) "I'd just hoped it wouldn't come when there was so much to do!"

"You mean, you can't help us?" Leliana said, incredulous. "But…Rowena's dying…"

Horrified, Wynne struggled to sit up—however, she floundered and collapsed. She began to weep.

"WYNNE!" Eruestan snapped, pushing Leliana out of the way. "You're not dying! No one is! Everything's fine! This is a dream!"

"Oh, do not listen to him!" Leliana said angrily, standing up. "How could you trust a coward? Look how he trembles here while his friends die in battle!"

"I am not!" Eruestan cried out indignantly. "Wynne, she's a demon!"

"Eruestan," Wynne said severely, a bit of her old self coming through. "Just because you two have been fighting doesn't mean you can just call her whatever you like. It's not gentlemanly."

"Wynne, you have to believe me!" Eruestan said pleadingly.

"She most certainly does not!" Demon/Leliana said sharply. "Here she is, too weak to even move, and you try and hide in her tent! How dare you? What sort of man are you? I knew I was right to leave you!"

Eruestan's blood boiled. "TAKE THAT BACK, YOU DEMONIC BITCH!" he shouted, lunging forward.

"ERUESTAN SURANA!" Wynne bellowed, death generously giving her the strength to sit straight up. She froze, suddenly aware that she was no longer flopping around on the ground.

"Oh," she said simply.

With another CRACK, the scene vanished into the typical Fade background. Where Leliana had once stood, a demon was now crouched, ready to strike.

Not wasting any time, Eruestan pulled out a sword and swiped out at it; however, his blade swung through empty air. He swung around wildly in the other direction, but it was too late. The demon side-stepped his blow and clamped its jaw down on his arm…

There was a rumbling sound, and all of a sudden the demon was blasted away, ripping away a chunk of Eruestan's flesh with it. He howled in pain, dropping to his knees. Squinting through his tears, he saw Wynne wave her hands. With a keening sound, the demon vanished into nothingness.

Wynne ran up to Eruestan and placed her hands on his maimed arm. Closing her eyes, she furrowed her forehead and infused his wound with pure healing energy.

Eruestan sighed in relief as the pain melted away.

"Thanks," he whispered appreciatively.

"No, thank _you_," she said. She shook her head. "After all this time studying the Fade, to be taken in by an illusion…I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"Hey, don't worry about it," he began, but all of a sudden, Wynne was no longer there.

Eruestan was now in Orzammar, and it was overrun with darkspawn.

The stench (something he hadn't sensed in many years) was almost overwhelming. It was the smell of fear, of pain, of death…it was so strong it almost rendered him useless.

Almost. Not quite.

Eruestan swung his staff through the air, summoning a giant wind that blasted a horde of darkspawn/demons off the bridge leading to the Proving ground into the lava below. While effective, this also caught the other demons' attentions. And there were A LOT of demons.

However, Eruestan would take a crowd of angry demons over a crowd of actual darkspawn any day.

Eruestan swiped his staff through the air, sending out a sharp wave of force that ripped through the horde, hacking into a whole group of darkspawn. Whirling around, he blasted through the other side with a giant burst of flame. However, more and more seemed to fill the place of their dead comrades. Eruestan thrust his staff in the earth, sending many darkspawn flying—but there were still more. Closing his eyes, he concentrated with all his might, focusing on making things as hot as possible. Feeling the darkspawn converge upon him, he made a circular movement with his staff, jaw clenched tight.

A withered hand clamped down on his wrist.

Eruestan slammed his staff to the ground. With a giant rushing sound, a huge column of fire surrounded the mage, incinerating the demons around him.

After a minute, Eruestan grimly slammed his staff to the ground once more, ending the inferno. All around him, the charred remains of the demons smoldered, ashes gently being turned about by the breezes from the firestorm. The city was now deathly quiet.

Suddenly exhausted, Eruestan collapsed to his knees. He groped wildly in his robes for a vial of lyrium—finding it, he chugged it down and immediately jumped to his feet, completely energized.

Suddenly, a drinking song echoed from somewhere in the Commons. Eruestan pulled out his staff and warily followed it.

The song was (quite fittingly) coming from the inside of Tapster's Tavern, near the entrance to Dust Town. The door was blasted off its hinges, and the dead bodies of dwarven warriors littered the area around it.

Eruestan entered cautiously, body tense. However, he relaxed when he saw Oghren sitting down in the middle of the room, staring vacantly at a wall and singing at the top of his lungs.

_Sweet Maker, has he been drinking in the Fade as well?_ Eruestan thought, exasperated.

"Oghren," he said walking forward. "There you are!"

Oghren slowly turned to him, looking blankly in his direction. "Whaddya want?" he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of rum and downing it.

"Oghren, listen to me," Eruestan said quickly. "I know this looks bad, but nothing here is real."

Oghren drained the bottle, tossed it aside, and opened another, not paying Eruestan any attention.

"Oghren? Focus!" Eruestan waved a hand in front of his face, slowly becoming frustrated.

Oghren slowly began to chug from the open bottle.

Eruestan snapped. He jumped forward and ripped the rum from Oghren's hand.

"CAN YOU STOP DRINKING FOR ONE MOMENT AND LISTEN—"

Suddenly, Eruestan's legs were swept out from under him, and he fell on his back with a giant thud. Oghren had him pinned down, as solid as a rock.

"You soddin' idiot," the dwarf growled, the smell of stale whiskey blowing on Eruestan's face. "Look outside. D'ya see that? Huh? _This is my home_. Everyone I know is dead. My whole country is destroyed. You think I'm drinking for fun? YOU THINK I WANT TO DO THIS?"

Eruestan paled, having never seen Oghren like this. "B-but…you're always drinking…I just thought…"

"What about that, huh?" Oghren roared, spit spraying. "Why's ole Oghren always drinkin'? What's with that? Well, try imaginin' this: let's say one day ya wake up 'n yer wife 'n entire family's disappeared. Say that they left on purpose—didn't wantcha 'round, see. You try lookin' for 'em—get mocked for it. Soon, you're broke, yer family's dead, and the only thing you want al'a'sudden is a nice cold'un from Tapster's. Nice little story, innit?"

Eruestan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly felling guilty. "I'm sorry, Oghren. I..I wasn't thinking…"

"Hell you weren't," Oghren muttered darkly, looking out the empty doorway to the streets of Orzammar below. "You ever see your people crushed like this?

_Duh, I'm an elf_, Eruestan started to say, but then held back. "About that…Oghren, listen; this isn't real. Nothing's happened to Orzammar. You're in the Fade."

"You think I have rocks for brains?" Oghren roared, shaking him. "Dwarves can't enter the Fade!"

"Don't ask me _how_ you got in, you just did!" Eruestan said irritably. He was beginning to lose circulation in his arms. "Think about it – how'd you get into Orzammar in the first place otherwise?"

"Well, I—" Oghren stopped, confused. "I…I did something, right?" He went onto his knees and scratched his forehead. "Wait…why'd I leave in the first place?"

"The lyrium! The lyrium!" Eruestan gasped, air slowly being pressed from his lungs by Oghren's knees.

"The lyrium?" Oghren's eyes widened. "Son of a—"

This time, Eruestan closed his eyes before the giant flash of light. After the giant CRACK, he opened them again and quickly fought to get Oghren off him.

"What in the name of the Stone are you doing?" Oghren said irritably.

"I need to get ready," Eruestan said desperately, taking his staff off his back. "There's no telling what'll be next—"

Eruestan felt something shift internally. Closing his eyes, he let out a desperate war cry and leapt forward…crashing right into Sten.

Opening his eyes quickly, Eruestan saw that Sten was already in the Fade background, surrounded by a circle of dead demons.

"Oh," Eruestan said, a little disappointed.

Sten raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong?"

"No…it's just, I was kind of looking forward to your nightmare. It would have been interesting to know what you're afraid of."

"Perhaps you wanted me to keep something alive for you to help fight, and then we could have a heartfelt discussion about our feelings afterwards."

"Never mind, Sten."

"I could tell you about it, of course. Would you like me to make some tea first?"

"No, thanks, Sten."

"You were in it."

"Really?"

"No."

Eruestan sighed. "Look, is it so bad that I want to know more about you?"

His last words echoed off the walls of an enormous carved chamber.

"Really?" Eruestan shouted. "Getting a little tired of the whole instant-travel thing!"

He looked around angrily, and suddenly paled. This was a familiar corridor.

He was in the Deep Roads—the homeland of the darkspawn.

Here, the stench was ten times worse than it had been in "Orzammar." The decay was overpowering; Eruestan felt ill. He could hear faint, evil whispers in the back of his mind, letting him know that darkspawn were nearby. However, they didn't seem to notice him—not yet, at least.

Gaining control over himself, Eruestan began to warily walk down the road, trying to search out whoever's dream this was. He searched vainly through the darkness. From the looks of it, this section of the Deep Roads had not been in use for many years. Soot marks from ancient battles littered the walls, and the rotting skeletons of various men and women littered the way, making it very difficult to walk through.

Suddenly, someone was kneeling right in front of him.

"Alistair!" Eruestan shouted, jumping back a few feet. "There you are!"

Alistair, however, did not look at him. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice he was there. Instead, Alistair was focusing on something on the ground below him.

Eruestan followed his gaze and swore loudly.

On the ground, lying dead in a pool of blood, was Rowena.

Eruestan crouched down swiftly and put a hand on his friend's shoulder; Alistair didn't acknowledge it.

"Alistair," Eruestan said gently, "don't worry. We're in the Fade. Rowena isn't really dead…"

His words fell on deaf ears. Eruestan peered into Alistair's face. The eyes looking back at him were not Alistair's. Rather, they were the eyes of a dead man—hollow and vacant.

"Alistair…this isn't her…this is probably a demon," Eruestan tried pleadingly, a vague sense of fear building up inside him. "Look, it probably even still has a pulse…"

He reached for the body's wrist…

With a jolt that was almost like electricity, Eruestan felt himself transport through the Fade—only he was in the same place. Confused, he looked over and instantly realized what was going on.

Right in front of him, Rowena knelt like a statue over Alistair's dead body.

Like Alistair, Rowena did not seem to notice that Eruestan was there. She, too, had the same deadened look in her eyes—a look of grief so painful it shut out all emotion, all sensation.

Experimentally, Eruestan grabbed Alistair's wrist. With another shock, he was back at the original scene.

"So they're having the same dream," Eruestan said in wonder. "This is their nightmare."

He bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. He hesitantly cast a rejuvenation spell on Alistair to try and shake him. Alistair, however, just sat there, not moving.

Spell after spell failed to get any response from either of them. Not wanting to hurt them, Eruestan held back from physically striking them to get a response. He sat back, perplexed.

_If only I could get one of them to transport to the other…_

He straightened. _That's it!_ Reaching forward, he tentatively grasped Alistair's wrist. It was ice-cold and clammy. Praying fervently that his plan would work, Eruestan placed Alistair's hand on Rowena's.

This time, it literally did feel like a bolt of lightning had shot through Eruestan's skin. The three were repulsed backwards by the force; however, as Eruestan flew through the air, he heard the typical CRACK and felt instantly relieved…before he collided with the ground, that is.

He sat up, dazed. Suddenly, someone gave a strange, almost animalistic cry. Eruestan looked up to see Alistair and Rowena crash into each other desperately. He looked away, embarrassed and sobered. Their nightmare was all the more horrible because it was most likely to happen. Eruestan knew that because they were Grey Wardens, the three of them would go to the Deep Roads to die fighting darkspawn…provided they lived long enough. Once there, there would be no telling as to who would die when or where. Eruestan fervently hoped Alistair and Rowena went down together. He couldn't imagine what they'd do otherwise.

This time, he was relieved rather than angered to find himself in a different scene. He was now on a solitary cliff-top that hung over a vast plain. A distant caravan with a heavy guard rumbled below, passing lazily in front of a group of trees. Leliana crouched before him, bow drawn taut. She was concentrating heavily, impatiently blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

Eruestan was very confused. This didn't seem like much of a nightmare. In fact, he was pretty sure Leliana got a lot of enjoyment out of this.

Suddenly, Leliana let her arrow fly, the _pwing!_ of the bowstring echoing in the night. Eruestan followed its silent flight through the dark, until finally it caught itself in the neck of a heavily armored man at the front of the caravan. The man gave a huge jolt, and collapsed twitching to the ground.

Dark figures slipped from the trees, racing at the caravan at full speed. Eruestan watched in wonder as the band of what looked like shadows set upon the armed guard, crippling it. Within minutes, all resistance had crumbled. The assassins cheered.

Suddenly, the door to the caravan opened, and someone stepped out.

However, Eruestan did not get to see who was in the carriage, for at that moment Leliana stood up abruptly, horror etched upon her face.

"What have I done?" she whispered. "They said they just wanted the captain killed…sweet Andraste, forgive me!"

She turned to flee…and gave a terrified scream when she saw Eruestan standing behind her.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," he said soothingly, taking a step forward. She jumped back and fell to her knees.

"How did you get here," she asked wildly, eyes widened with fear. "You're supposed to be in Denerim!"

He sighed; this whole _don't-worry-We're-in-the-Fade_ bit was getting a little old. "Look, Leliana, thi—"

She burst into tears. "Please forgive me!" she wept bitterly, refusing to look at him. "I-I didn't know!"

"What do you mean, forgive you?" Eruestan said, concerned. "Leli, you've done this a thousand times! You don't need to ask anyone's forgiveness!"

She shook her head desperately. "You don't understand!"

"Of course I do," Eruestan said sympathetically. "You're an assassin. It's what you do."

She looked at him confusedly, tears streaming down her face. "Y-you're not…angry?"

"No," he said, bemused. "Why should I be?"

"Because she is a snake," Eruestan said wickedly. Only it wasn't Eruestan at all.

The real Eruestan spun around to see himself walking up behind him. Demon/Eruestan had a hardened, fearsome look in his eye. "She's betrayed us all."

"Don't listen to him," Eruestan said sharply—however, his words fell on deaf ears. Leliana was looking at the demon with a horrified fascination.

"Villain," the demon whispered. "Traitor. We trusted you, Leliana! How could you do this to us?"

She looked down, her body slowly racking with sobs. "I…I didn't think…"

"Evidently," the demon said cruelly. He leaned in. "I thought I loved you. Now I see you for who you truly are—a lying, filthy, back-stabbing whore!"

"HEY!" Eruestan shouted, pushing the demon back. "Watch what you call her!"

Leliana stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. She shook her head as if to clear it. "How…what is going on? How are their two of you?"

"He is an imposter," the demon said disdainfully. "You would probably work well together."

"Leliana, don't listen to him," Eruestan said urgently. "I'm Eruestan. I'm the real me! We're in the Fade!"

She stared at him helplessly. "I don't…how can I tell…?"

"Yes, how can she tell?" the demon mocked cruelly. "Why would Eruestan Surana be so forgiving of so much treachery?"

"Leliana," Eruestan pleaded, "you have to believe me."

"Prove it," the demon laughed. "Prove to her that you're the real thing."

Eruestan hesitated. What could he possibly do that this demon couldn't to make her believe him? Then it struck him.

Without a second's pause, he leaned forward and kissed her.

Leliana's eyes opened wide.

The sounds of the Fade roaring in his ears, Eruestan grabbed his swords and parried the demon's blow as it came to strike him. He kicked it in the chest and sent it to the ground. The demon rolled out of the way and swiped at his stomach; Eruestan jumped back, then struck forward, his blade sinking into the spirit's neck. With a gurgling sound, it collapsed to the ground, dead.

Eruestan panted heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead. Behind him, Leliana kneeled, shivering.

"Well?" she said, voice trembling. "You heard what it said. What do you think of me now?"

"Leli, I don't even know what's going on!" Eruestan cried exasperatedly. "What did you do?"

"Y-you…you don't know?" She looked at him in wonder. "You did not see…" There was a flicker of hope in her eyes. Eruestan took a step forward…

…and found himself standing on the edge of a vast pool.

A handsome black-haired young man was standing at the edge of the pool, staring at it with the same fascinated horror Leliana had stared at the demon. Pointed ears sticking through his hair revealed him to be an elf.

With a growing sense of trepidation, Eruestan cautiously approached him. The man paid him no heed, instead focusing on the water.

"Um…hi," Eruestan said uncertainly.

"D-do you see it?" the young man whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. "In the water. H-how is it doing this?"

Eruestan peered into the water…and gasped at what he saw.

Reflected back from the surface was a horrific scene. It was the Alienage at Denerim, but not the one Eruestan knew. Human soldiers were pouring into the district, setting houses on fire and killing fleeing elves. Eruestan felt his stomach clench as he realized that he was watching a raid.

Suddenly, a young black-haired elven woman ran up from an alley-way, a young boy clasped in her arms. She tried to break away from the crowd, but her legs were kicked out from underneath her by a soldier. The child tumbled from her arms. She let out a terrified scream as the man set upon her.

There was a flash of light, a rushing noise, and all of a sudden the entire square was the site of a giant blizzard. The soldier was picked up off the woman and blasted back onto a tree. Frost slowly began to form around him, until finally he was frozen solid to the trunk.

The blizzard slowly faded, leaving a good few inches of snow lying on the ground. Everywhere, both soldier and elf stared stunned at the frozen man. Then something fell to the ground with a thud. It was the little elven boy, almost consumed by magical energy. A thin layer of frost was already forming around his ears…

Eruestan jolted. That was him! He had done that? He could never remember the day he first used magic—whatever he had known about it had come from other mages at the Tower. He had always wondered why he couldn't remember—and now he knew. He had repressed the terrible memory, too young to deal with it. It was a startling revelation, and it made him gasp.

"So you do see it!" the young man whispered. "I-I can't look away! It k-knows everything about me!"

"About you?" Eruestan said confusedly. "How is this about you?"

The instant he said it, though, he realized what was going on.

He stared down at the pool once again. Now, he watched the little boy be carted away by men in large suits of armor…watched the pretty black-haired woman pale and weaken, and eventually be laid out on a funeral pyre…watched a man's corpse dangle from the ceiling, a rope around its neck…saw numerous funerals for plague-infested victims…saw countless empty food bowls…saw raids, so many raids...and saw the desperate looks in the eyes of four elven children, all too young to understand what was happening to them. Eruestan fought back tears as he realized the price his family was forced to pay for his abilities.

He looked over at the elven man standing next to him. He looked haggard—his hair was straggly, and his face was deeply lined. Yet his eyes were a very familiar shade of grey…

Eruestan fell to his knees. "Marcaunon," he said. "Look at me."

The elf waved him off, annoyed by the interruption. "Sh! I'm watching this!"

Eruestan grabbed his brother's hand. "Please listen to me! You have to stop watching! You're in danger!"

Marcaunon kicked at him vaguely, eyes still glued on his horrific memories.

"Marcaunon…I'm serious…Marcaunon…BROTHER!" Eruestan shouted, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

The elf's head snapped down. "Brother?"

There was a huge roar, and the surface of the pool was broken in a giant crash as a great demon rose up out of the water. Emotionally and physically exhausted, Eruestan tried to jump out of the way of its snatching claws, but was too late. To his horror, he found himself trapped in the demon's grasp, unable to break free.

There was a distant _thock!_, and all of the sudden three arrows stuck out of the demon's throat. The massive hand holding Eruestan went loose, and he collapsed to the ground, the pool drying up with the demon's death.

A few feet over, Marcaunon stood tense, bow drawn in case another demon decided to show up. He relaxed, and walked over to Eruestan.

"You are our long-lost brother," he said calmly.

Eruestan stared at him. Herenya had said that like an insult; he was saying it like a benediction. Needless to say, he was even more surprised when Marcaunon pulled him to his feet and gave him a crushing bear hug.

"WHOA!" he shouted, pulling himself out of his brother's grasp. "I thought you all hated me! What's with the big joyous greeting thing?"

Marcaunon sighed. "You've met Herenya, haven't you?"

Eruestan nodded, bug-eyed.

"Look, Herenya…well, she's had it rough. We all have. And we all have our own ways of coping. Hers just happens to be blaming you for everything."

"Not that I don't deserve it," Eruestan muttered bitterly, looking back miserably at the dried lakebed. "All those awful things happened to you because of me."

"I used to think that," Marcaunon said quietly, "but then I realized a few things. First off, you can't control what you're born with. It's not your fault that you're a mage. Secondly, you were six. We can't blame you for something you did when you were six. Finally, think of where we'd be if you hadn't left—probably long dead, eaten by darkspawn." He put a hand on Eruestan's shoulder. "You've done the Surana name proud."

Eruestan smiled gratefully, a fuzzy feeling building in the back of his throat. Coughing loudly, he quickly turned and said, "I wonder why I'm still here."

"Well, you are a great mage, and a Grey Warden…"

"No, no, not that," Eruestan said thoughtfully. "I wonder why I haven't left yet, or why we're not in the regular part of the Fade. Usually after I kill the demons I'm taken away to somewhere new."

Marcaunon's face darkened. "It's because this is no regular section of the Fade. This is part of the lair of _Asha'belannar._"

"Flemeth," Eruestan breathed, frightened. He had only met the Witch of the Wilds three times, but that was enough to let him know that she was not someone to be trifled with. Flemeth was a woman who had once called on a great demon to enact revenge on a man who wronged her – her husband. However, the demon had possessed her, and now she (well, it, really) lived through the centuries, her magic getting stronger all the time. Only recently had Eruestan discovered the key to her immortality: whenever she used up her host body, she would raise a daughter and then kill her, taking her daughter's body as her own. This would have been bad enough…had one of those daughters not been Morrigan.

However, Morrigan had discovered her mother's plot in time, and the party had killed Flemeth before she killed Morrigan. It had been an intensely difficult battle, though, and Eruestan was not cherishing a rematch.

Eruestan glanced to his right. A giant hallway loomed into the distance as if it had always been there. A very distant cackle reverberated on the walls.

With a groan, Eruestan began to walk down the hall…and turned in surprise to see Marcaunon walking behind him.

"What?" the elf said defensively. "Can't let you bring _all_ the glory to the family."

Eruestan smiled, glad to have the company. Where he was going, he was going to need all the help he could get.


	13. Mommy Dearest

Eruestan and Marcaunon walked quietly down the hall, weapons drawn. A feeling of evil began to build in the air; Eruestan tightened his grip on his staff.

The hallway ended in a flight of descending stairs that led to a sunken chamber. It reminded Eruestan of the great elven ruins in the Brecilian Forest. Giant columns lined the walls, broken by another flight of stairs that led upwards into the distance. Lying in the center of the chamber on a large altar was Morrigan.

Eruestan ran forward. She seemed to be trapped in a horrific dream—her breath was irregular, and she twitched horribly. She looked haggard—her time with Flemeth, although short, was already taking its toll.

Marcaunon looked at her curiously. "She's rather beautiful, isn't she?"

"Only if you haven't met her," Eruestan muttered under his breath. He looked around the chamber worriedly. "This isn't right. I can sense some sort of evil here…but I don't see…"

Behind him, Marcaunon drew his breath dramatically and pulled his bow taut. Eruestan spun around to see a wizened old woman walking down the opposite steps.

"My, my, company," she grinned toothily. "It's been so long since I've entertained anyone; I do hope I can remember how."

Eruestan pointed his staff at her. "Don't try and play nice here, Flemeth," he snarled. "We all know what you want."

She cocked her head. "To spend time with my daughter?" she said innocently. "I don't see what's wrong with that." Her eyes narrowed. "Put your stick down, boy—you'll hurt yourself."

He stood resolutely, staff firm. "I won't let you harm Morrigan," he said coldly.

"Who said anything about harming anyone? I only wish to speak with you." She took a step forward, not breaking eye contact. "I have heard many things about you, Grey Warden. Whispers through the Fade—how you have defeated ancient curses, great demons, and even a Blight itself. In fact, you were even able to defeat me. That was…surprising. Since that day, I have watched from afar, seeing your every move, observing you as your power grew."

"What's your point?" Eruestan said sharply.

"I know you, Eruestan Surana. I see your ambition, your lust for power. I have seen how tightly you grasp the control given to you, how unwillingly you let it go."

Eruestan paled; he had always tried to conceal that part of his personality—he felt it was an ugly trait. "H-how…?"

"I could give all that to you," Flemeth purred, voice smooth as silk. "You could become the most powerful man in all of Thedas…if you'll just give me the one thing I need…?"

"Don't listen to her!" Marcaunon shouted. "Don't forget what she's done!" His bow was still pointed resolutely at Flemeth's chest.

Eruestan blinked; he suddenly realized that Flemeth had somehow gotten dangerously close to him. He tried to back away, but for some reason his legs felt like rubber. And somehow, Flemeth seemed less repulsive now—almost sweet, in a way. He could hardly remember why he feared her so much in the first place…she was just an old lady, after all…

She laughed softly. "Little elf, do you really think you have more influence than me in my own domain?" She snapped her fingers—two elves appeared out of nowhere. One, a man, was blonde with purple eyes; the other, a woman, had long black hair and clear grey eyes. A shiver went through Eruestan's body.

Marcaunon's mouth fell open in shock. "F-Father…M-Mother…" he breathed in wonder. His bow clattered to the floor.

"I could help you bring them back, you know," Flemeth said calmly; to Eruestan, it sounded as if she was speaking from a long distance. "Your parents…even the rest of your siblings…oh, the things you could have…"

Eruestan shook his head, trying to clear it. "N-no, I c-can't…we need M-Morrigan…"

"Why?" Flemeth challenged. "I have more power than she could ever hope to have. Look how easily I made her submit to me! With me at your side, you could do extraordinary things. Things no other man has done before…"

Eruestan took a deep breath, and suddenly a glorious vision appeared in front of him. He was a leading a great army into Val Royeaux, forcing the mighty Orlesian Empire to its knees. Alistair was now being crowned in the Cathedral; yet the crowds really cheered for Eruestan.

Now Eruestan was marching to the Tevinter Imperium—the floating palaces of Minrathous were crumbling to dust—again, Alistair was crowned, and again, Eruestan was cheered on.

Antiva, the Anderfels, Nevarra, the Free Marches—all fell to Eruestan's might.

Then, he saw a different scene. Eruestan sat on the throne, the crown now his. Behind him, resting on a silver plate, was Alistair's head…

"NO!" Eruestan shouted, shattering the vision to pieces. Behind him, Marcaunon gave a wild jolt as the vision of his parents vanished into nothingness.

Flemeth cackled merrily. "Oh, what fun! Someone with a will! It has been a long time since I have seen such a worthy opponent." She cocked her head to the side. "I will regret having to kill you."

"I killed you once before, Flemeth, I can do it again!" Eruestan roared.

She grinned. "So we shall see."

With a cry, Eruestan sprung forward, staff pointed dangerously—Flemeth yawned, and sent him flying through the air with a flick of her finger. He smashed into a wall—ignoring the pain, he jumped up and sent a concentrated beam of energy shooting at Flemeth. She waved it into nothingness.

Marcaunon sent a volley of arrows flying, arms moving so fast they were almost a blur. Flemeth thrust an arm out in front of her; the arrows spun around and flung back at Marcaunon. He rolled out of the way, and from a crouching position shot another two arrows at her. She blinked; they both vanished into thin air.

Eruestan tried to cast a paralysis spell—Flemeth, however, sensed the change in energy and pointed a finger at him. A giant stream of black energy shot out towards him. Eruestan concentrated and formed a magical shield in front of him. However, Flemeth's spell was so powerful that when it met Eruestan's shield it forced him back several feet.

Gritting his teeth, Eruestan drew in the energy around him and blasted out with his staff, sending a giant wave of force flying at Flemeth. She redirected it, and sent it towards Marcaunon. With a gasp, Eruestan tried to destroy the spell, but it was too late. The magic collided with Marcaunon like a giant boulder, and sent him flying towards a wall. With a sickening thud, he landed on the ground and did not move.

Enraged, Eruestan threw down his staff and pulled out his swords, brandishing them in Flemeth's face. She grinned, and sent a large bolt of lightning racing towards him. He knocked it to one side with a burst of concentration and leapt forward, blades flashing.

Suddenly, Flemeth was wielding two swords as well. It soon became apparent who was the better swordsman. For every strike Eruestan made, Flemeth made two; it was all he could do just to try and block her.

Fast as sin, Flemeth slipped through Eruestan's defenses and knocked him to the ground. He froze, swords pointed at his head and at his chest.

Flemeth cackled in delight. "What will it be, Grey Warden?" she crowed. "Your mind? Or your heart?"

Coincidentally, two arrows suddenly stuck out of the very same places on Flemeth's body.

Eruestan looked up to see Leliana standing on the top of the stairs, looking like a goddess of war with her bow drawn. Behind her, the rest of the party stormed the chamber, all shouting fierce battle cries.

However, instead of collapsing to the ground, Flemeth merely laughed. With a wave of her hand, the arrows turned to smoke, leaving no wounds on her body. She went to stab Eruestan…and was forced to back away by Rowena.

"Sorry we're late!" Rowena grunted, pointing her sword at the old woman.

"Yeah, no problem!" Eruestan said wildly, jumping out of the way.

Rowena eyed Flemeth warily, shield raised. She leapt forward, slashing her blade through the air. Flemeth swirled, lashing out with her own twin blades; they struck Rowena's shield with such force that Rowena was sure she was going to drop it. She took a deep breath and pressed forward.

She and Flemeth began a deadly dance, swords slicing through the air with wicked precision. Both women twirled and ducked as if choreographed, neither one able to land a blow on the other. Alistair, Sten, and Oghren hovered around them, unwilling to jump in for fear of striking Rowena.

With a burst of effort, Rowena slashed forward and cut Flemeth's throat. Nothing happened; no blood spilled out, no death cries were heard. Flemeth only grinned and pressed onward. Shocked, Rowena let her guard down for a split second—which was all Flemeth needed.

The old woman snapped forward and stabbed Rowena in the stomach with both blades. Rowena fell to the ground with a cry, blood pouring from her wound.

With a roar, Alistair stepped forward, blasting Flemeth aside with his shield. He crouched protectively over Rowena, eyes daring Flemeth to attack. However, before she could, Sten and Oghren darted forward, forming a wall between her and Alistair. The three of them circled in on her.

Flemeth moved so fast Eruestan thought she was on fire. Her blades sang through the air as they struck his friends' weapons, never staying in one place for more than an instant. Soon, it looked as though she were surrounded by a corona of steel, swords moving so quick you could barely make them out. Sweat poured down the three men's faces as they struggled to keep their ground.

Eruestan ran to Rowena's side. She was paler than usual from blood loss and was gasping for breath. With a burst of focus, Eruestan bathed her wounds in a steady blue light. They sealed before his eyes.

"Don't move," he said quickly. "Give it some time to really take hold."

Grimacing, she nodded, looking over his shoulder at the battle behind him.

He heard a staff slam to the ground. Wynne had stepped in front of Flemeth and cast a light spell so dazzling that Flemeth was momentarily blinded. Sten swung his sword through the air and cleaved Flemeth in two.

For a moment, it seemed like it was over…then, something very odd and very terrifying happened. A strange blue smoke was issuing from Flemeth's corpse. Slowly, it began to solidify, growing larger and larger each second. It finally took form, now a great Pride Demon that towered over all of them. Its fists were the size of boulders, and its mouth was probably large enough to eat Sten whole, sword and all. Eruestan felt his jaw drop.

The creature roared, a sound so great it shook the very walls of the chamber. It slammed the ground, sending out a shockwave that knocked everyone back.

Suddenly, an arrow shot through the air and embedded itself in the demon's eye. With a snarl, the demon sent a ball of flame soaring at Leliana; she dove aside as it exploded right where she was standing.

_We're never going to defeat it like this_, Eruestan thought desperately, watching as Sten valiantly tried to slice at the demon's feet. He never thought he'd be saying this, but he almost wished Flemeth would turn into a dragon like last time.

Wanting to be helpful, he drew on his dwindling energies and sent a large chunk of the floor flying at the demon. It smashed against its head with little effect, instead raining down upon his companions.

_If only that could've been larger_…

It came to him like a flash. Closing his eyes, he began to probe with his magic into the room, reaching towards the ceiling. Putting all his will behind it, he explored the length of the roof, surrounding it with an aura of magic.

Below, the demon was smashing into his friends, sending them sailing across the chamber. It threw back its head and gave a bone-chilling war cry.

With a scream of concentration, Eruestan thrust his arms to the floor, forcing the ceiling to collapse with sheer will. With a great rumble, the stones fell from the roof to the ground, burying Flemeth in a ton of rock.

Eruestan fell to his knees, barely able to move. He was glad it was over; he doubted he could cast another spell if he tried.

Naturally, that meant it was anything _but_ over.

There was a massive explosion as the Pride Demon blasted itself out of its prison in a giant ball of flame. Eruestan's heart sank as it bellowed in rage, magical energy crackling around its fists.

But before it could get its bearings, three blurs jumped up and took the demon by surprise. Leliana swept along the back of its legs, slicing through its tendons and forcing it to its knees. Alistair ducked under its arms and thrust his sword into its chest; at the same moment, Rowena leapt up from behind and sunk her blade into the creature's skull.

The demon howled in pain, a sound so terrible that all Eruestan wanted to do grasp his ears and go crawl into a hole to die. Alistair and Rowena, however, stuck doggedly to the demon, thrusting their blades deeper and deeper into its body. With a final scream, the demon collapsed to the ground, dead.

Then, all Eruestan could see was stars.

He sat up, confused. All around him, the others were sprawled out on the ground as well. They were back at the clearing in the forest, only now Flemeth's dead body was bleeding in the center. Not exactly picturesque.

Suddenly, Morrigan gave a huge, wrenching gasp and leaned over, retching. Behind her Marcaunon did the same, body heaving.

Then there was silence as the two took deep, wracking breaths, trying to regain their composures. Eruestan fell back and stared up at the sky, counting the many constellations. _How long did she have us trapped in there?_ he thought tiredly. He found he really didn't care. All he wanted to do now was sleep.

Yet, there were things to do, and as much as he'd like to stay and rest, he knew he couldn't.

Wearily pulling himself to his feet, Eruestan leaned heavily on his staff and looked at his companions. They, too, looked like they'd rather just lie there and pretend they weren't surrounded by dead bodies. With a groan, Rowena rose as well, wincing as her armor pressed against her injuries. She leaned over and nudged Alistair.

"You awake? We need to get moving."

"Go away," he mumbled, trying to fight her off. However, it seemed that he was having a little trouble moving his arms.

"Impressive," she said dryly, watching him spasm on the ground. "But seriously, we have to leave. We have to tell the Dalish that Flemeth's dead."

"You tell them," he said grumpily. "I'm sleeping."

"Fine. We'll just go and leave you here, alone, with all these, you know, _dead bodies_. And maybe if you're lucky, a wolf will come along and eat you before you die of thirst."

"That sounds nice," Alistair said, turning away from her and curling up in a ball.

"Here, let me help," Wynne said smoothly. Eruestan expected her to cast a rejuvenation spell. Instead, she pulled out her canteen and poured out a generous amount of water on Alistair's head.

"ACK!" He jumped up, face drenched. "I'm up! I'm up!"

Chuckling, Eruestan turned to Marcaunon and Morrigan, who were slowly pulling themselves up to a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" Eruestan asked quickly.

"Considering that for the past two days I've been possessed by an evil demon that was slowly draining the life from my body, I'm doing pretty well." Marcaunon grinned. "Thanks to you, that is."

"Yes," Morrigan said quietly. "'Tis true. T'were not for you, I would be dead. I-I…Thank you, Eruestan."

Eruestan blushed. "You're my friend," he said simply. "And my brother. What else was I supposed to do?"

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Let Flemeth slay me, take possession of my body, and have her lead you to greatness over all mankind?"

"Well, there's that," Eruestan admitted.

"So…thank you, Eruestan. For everything."

He smiled. Maybe this was the beginning of a new side of Morrigan, one that was kind, thoughtful, and caring.

Alistair approached from behind him. "Is everyone alright? Oh, here, Morrigan, let me help you…"

The old Morrigan snapped right back. "Do not touch me, fool! I am perfectly capable of supporting myself!"

She then proved her point by having her legs give out, causing her to fall to the ground.

"Well, do not just stand there! Help me up!" she cried out irritably.

"Here, let me," Marcaunon said quickly, bending down and pulling her to her feet. He quickly put her arm around his shoulder and supported her.

She stared at him suspiciously. "Do not think that just because we were both possessed by the same demon means that we are now destined to sleep together."

Marcaunon laughed with surprise. "You were wrong," he said cheerfully to Eruestan. "She actually gets better the more you know her."

"Wha—What did you say about me, Eruestan Surana?"

Eruestan sighed. This was going to be a very long walk.

The sounds of heated debate greeted them as they approached the Dalish camp.

"It has been too long, Lanaya!" someone shouted angrily. "The _shemlens_ obviously have failed. We should just move on and pray to the gods for guidance."

"NO!" a woman cried. "My brother is still missing! We can't leave without him!"

"Herenya, give it up," a man said sternly. "All of the other hunters have been killed—why should Marcaunon be any different?"

"May the gods rain their wrath upon you, Erynion," Herenya said passionately. "How dare you write my brother off just because your daughter was killed by this monster?"

"_Me? _How dare _you,_ you pathetic, city-elf wench!"

"Enough!" Lanaya shouted, her voice harsh. "Herenya, I feel deeply for you and your loss. However, I am afraid that I must agree with the other Keepers. It seems that our friends have failed in their quest." She sounded sad. "We must move forward before this evil consumes us all."

"There won't be any need for that," Eruestan said loudly, breaking through the ring of elves to the center. Shocked gasps and cries of relief rippled through the crowd. Herenya stood in the center, eyes open wide and mouth slack. With a scream of joy, she ran forward and flung her arms around Marcaunon, who hugged her back fiercely.

Lanaya laughed in disbelief, staring in shock at the people collected in front of her. Eruestan bowed.

"We have done as you wished," he said quietly. "We have defeated this evil."

"What was it?" Lanaya asked breathlessly, holding up her hand to still the excited murmurs that were now racing through the crowds.

"_Asha'belannar_," Marcaunon said, stepping forward. "She was living off the bodies of the hunters she captured. The Grey Wardens came to fight her, and she trapped them in the Fade. However, this man, my brother" (here, Herenya stiffened visibly) "fought off the dreams and managed to save us all."

Lanaya closed her eyes, an elated relief washing over her face. "Thank you, Grey Warden," she said, her voice slightly emotional. "The People were truly blessed when you first came to us." She turned to Alistair and Rowena. "I understand the throne of Ferelden has been taken from you?"

Alistair nodded, his face grim.

She cleared her throat and turned back to her people. "The Dalish have long considered human politics to be beyond their jurisdiction. To us, every human king and queen is the same; they spout kind words with poison in their hearts. However, I believe these two to be different. They ended the terrible curse inflicted upon us so many years ago by one of our own. They gave us a homeland at the end of the Blight. And now they have freed the People from a yet another great evil. Brothers and Sisters, let us show this world that the Dalish can be called upon to aide their friends." She rose herself to full height. "I pledge my clan to the cause of the human king and queen. I ask you to do the same."

Shocked whispers were now heard running through the Council. For a moment, it looked as though Lanaya would stand alone. Then, an elderly woman stepped reluctantly from the crowd.

"What Lanaya says is true," she croaked, leaning heavily on her staff. "We must bring honor back to the Dalish name. My clan will join the fight as well."

"As will mine," a red-haired man said from the back.

Other elves stepped forward, pledging their warriors. However, Eruestan noticed that for each elf who said they'd fight, another left the Council without saying a word. Chief among them was Erynion, who left for his camp with a death glare at Eruestan. Eruestan was a little worried, yet Lanaya seemed unperturbed. As the last elf pledged her allegiance, Lanaya smiled and said, "_Ma serannas_, my brethren. We will be a force to be reckoned with on the field of battle." She turned back to Alistair and Rowena. "Just say the word, and you will find the might of the _Elvehn_ behind you."

Alistair bowed his head, humbled. "T-Thank you. You have no idea how much I value your help."

Lanaya grinned. "I suppose the feeling's mutual then." She turned back to the group. "But enough of this! The time has come to celebrate!"

With a cheer, the Council broke apart, the various clans gone to bring wine, food, and instruments.

Eruestan walked forward to join the festivities…and was stopped when someone grasped his hand. He turned around to see Herenya standing in front of him, a strange look on her face. Biting her lip, she seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say.

"Look, I-I…" She sighed. "Ok. I'm not exactly known for being the nicest of people…and I've maybe apologized, like, twice in my entire life…and the idea of admitting that I'm in the wrong to anyone makes me want to rip my teeth out…but still, I think—I _know_ I was too hasty in judging you when I first met you. It's just, for so long it seemed like everything we did brought death and failure. Mother died, Father died, we starved in the orphanage…It just became easy to blame you for everything. We finally just joined the Dalish, and for the first time it seemed like things were going to go our way. Then, Marcaunon disappeared, and you came out of nowhere…It was just too much. I guess the stress, and fear, and frustration just kinda got to me. I shouldn't have snapped out at you—I'm sorry…brother…"

Eruestan looked at her in wonder; she gave him a timid smile. He grinned broadly, and quickly cleared his throat. "T-Thank you," he said quickly. "J-just…thank you."

Without warning, Herenya jumped forward and gave him a hug. She broke back suddenly, a little withdrawn.

"Sorry," she said quicky. "I don't normally do that." She grabbed his hand firmly. "And thank _you_ for saving my—_our_ brother. If there's anything you need…"

"Actually," Eruestan said thoughtfully, "I'd like to find the others, eventually." He blushed. "I want to make things better, for everyone."

She smiled and pulled out a faded map. "An elf we knew from the Alienage told us what happened to them when he came to join the People." She unrolled it and pointed to the Southern Bannorn. "Helenniel is a maid at the castle of Bann Ceorlic." She traced her finger along the map until it rested on Gwaren. "Beriadanwen and Máfortian were both sent to Gwaren when the orphanage became too crowded. I'm not sure where they are in the city, exactly, but at least it's a start." She held it out hesitantly. "I always wanted to use this map to go out and find them…but I think you'll have a better chance than I ever would." She thrust it into his hand. "Take this. Please. For us."

Eruestan smiled gratefully and put the map in his robes.

Music began to play in the background as the elves began their celebration. Brother and sister walked contentedly back to the party, the sounds of revelry echoing around them. Herenya walked over to where Gondian stood, wrapping her arm around him. Exhaustion catching up with him once more, Eruestan sat down heavily on a log around a campfire…right next to Leliana.

They both jumped when they saw each other. Leliana blushed a deep, furious red and began to glare at the fire, forehead furrowed in concentration.

"Leli…" Eruestan said pleadingly. "Please…"

"No," she whispered fiercely. "Never. I'd kill myself before I told you!"

"Who was that captain, Leliana?" Eruestan asked quietly.

With a cry, she sprung to her feet and raced across the camp, not looking back.

Eruestan stared at the fire, watching as the flames grew higher and higher until it seemed as if they would consume everything in their fiery path. And even though he was surrounded by almost the entire Dalish population of Ferelden, Eruestan suddenly felt very, very alone.


	14. Light Amidst Darkness

Eruestan jolted back and forth in an aravel, cracking his head on a very large statue. He grimaced and rubbed his head—this was NOT what he called traveling in style.

The group had set out that morning ready to make the long and weary walk to Lothering from the middle of the forest. However, Lanaya had seen them and promptly demanded that they hitch a ride on one of the great elven landships. They had agreed, relieved to not have to walk such a long distance.

Boy, were they stupid.

The aravel seemed to have a knack for hitting every single root and stump on the forest path. Several times, Eruestan was sure it was going to tip over from a combination of weight and speed. The constant swaying, rocking, and jerking made him feel a little queasy.

However, he didn't have the worst of it. Alistair and Rowena both sat with tight lips, as if afraid of what would happen if they opened their mouths. Poor Oghren was sweating buckets and wringing his hands together.

"Sweet stone! Why do you topsiders always have to ride things to get to places?" he gasped, loosening the collar on his armor. "What's wrong with good ol' feet on dirt?" He swayed a little. "I think I need to lie down." He plopped over and laid his head on Wynne's lap.

Wynne, who had had her eyes closed, slowly opened them and stared at the dwarf who was now burying his face in her thighs. "Oghren," she said, voice deadly calm, "I could cast a nausea-reducing spell on you, if you like."

"Naw, I think this is working," he said, burrowing his head further in her lap. "Now if you could just…"

"Nope," Wynne said calmly, pushing Oghren off her. He rolled off and crashed into Morrigan. Eruestan flinched and closed his eyes, waiting for the storm to break.

However, before it could, the aravel came to a shuddering halt, and the back hatch jerked open. An elven head swung into view.

"We've reached Lothering," it said cheerfully.

"Thank the Maker!" Alistair and Rowena both said hurriedly, racing out of the caravan, the rest of the party not far behind. Even Leliana, with her fascination for elven culture, left a little faster than usual.

The group walked out into open air, temporarily blinded by the sunshine. Eruestan rubbed his eyes and squinted into the distance.

What greeted him was horrifying.

The last time Eruestan had been to Lothering, it had been a bustling village full of refugees from the Blight. Now, he could barely recognize it. It looked like West Hill did—if West Hill had been devoured by the Archdemon, spit out, rebuilt, and then burnt to the ground.

For a moment, the party stared quietly at the ruins. Eruestan, Rowena, and Alistair looked at each other in horror. They had come to Lothering during the Blight, and unwittingly had left it to its fate. The darkspawn had invaded a few weeks later.

"This is terrible," Alistair whispered, eyes wide as he stared at the destruction.

Nodding grimly, Eruestan took a few steps forward.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as an odd whispering filled his head. With a gasp, he drew his staff; behind him, he heard Rowena and Alistair draw their weapons as well. That meant only one thing – darkspawn.

And yet, there was nothing there.

"Is everything alright?" Wynne asked, alarmed.

Confused, Eruestan put his staff back.

"Y-es," he said slowly, rubbing his neck. He could still here the whispers – there had to be some around here! "It's just…I thought…"

"It must be the Taint," Alistair said. "I think we all sensed some darkspawn," he said quickly to Wynne's confused look. "This place was so heavily affected by the Blight—I think we're still sensitive to it."

Eruestan frowned, not entirely convinced. The Taint at West Hill hadn't affected him like that, after all. However, not wanting to worry anyone for nothing, he shook his head and said, "Let's just find the lyrium and get out of here."

"It'd be in the chantry," Leliana said quietly. She looked up to see everyone staring at her. "Lothering was a Templar outpost. The chantry had a special chamber built to contain all the lyrium needed for the order—it'd be the only place in the village to store such a large amount without harming anyone."

Eruestan began to look around the ruins. The familiar Chantry spire was nowhere to be seen. "I guess we're just going to have to do this the old-fashioned way," he grumbled, making his way through the wreckage.

The town was deathly still. Any people left in the region lived in a small refugee camp on the outskirts of the village, near the river, too poor to do any rebuilding. Eruestan felt guilt bubble up in his stomach. Lothering had somehow fallen between the cracks of the rebuilding process. The idea that it had taken so long for people to resume their normal lives was completely unacceptable.

Then they reached the chantry, and he instantly stopped thinking about the government.

Eruestan supposed it was a little unfair to call it a chantry now. The spire had broken off and was now impaled in the ground. The large oak doors were smashed to pieces, letting them see the mass of dead bodies littering the inside of the building. Amazingly, the walls were still intact; however, even these were blackened with soot and the Taint.

"One would think one would want to refurbish something so…depressing," Morrigan said calmly. "This hardly makes a quiet place for prayer and reflection."

"Not now, Morrigan," Wynne said quietly, staring with horror at the utter destruction.

"Well, don't just stand here! Let's go!" Oghren grumbled, hopping up the steps. "The sooner we find this lyrium, the sooner I can fill up on ale at Tapster's."

Leliana nodded and stepped forward. "I agree with Oghren. I'd…rather not stay here for too long." She stepped inside the chantry and motioned for them to follow.

The party made a laborious path down to the altar, trying to avoid crushing the bones they walked on. "You do know where this is, right?" Eruestan said worriedly, skirting around someone's skull.

She nodded, daintily skipping over a large skeleton. "Every sister was expected to be able to dole out lyrium should they need to. Believe me, if there's any here, I'll know how to get to it."

They reached the blood-stained altar. A skeleton still dressed in the tattered robes of a Revered Mother was draped across it.

"Mother Abigail," Leliana said quietly.

Rowena blushed. "I think this is the Revered Mother I was a little short with during the Blight," she muttered, embarrassed.

"Short with?" Alistair snorted. "You threatened to beat her!"

She grinned. "Well, when you put it _that_ way…"

"Heresy aside," Leliana said loudly, "she's going to help us out quite a bit."

Eruestan stared at her. "Leliana, she's dead."

Leliana sighed, reached into the Mother's robes, and pulled out a key. Embarrassed, Eruestan instantly began whistling and looking around the chantry. Shaking her head, Leliana reached behind the altarpiece and stuck the key into a hidden keyhole.

There was a loud rumbling, and a section of the altarpiece suddenly protruded from the surface. Leliana pressed it, and a hidden door slid open, revealing a flight of stairs that descended into darkness. Eruestan stepped forward and summoned an aura of light around his hands. He cautiously led the way down into the cellar, ignoring the many cobwebs and crawling insects.

The stairs ended at a small wood door. Leliana tried to put the key in the lock...and gasped in horror when a mysterious force melted it.

"It's magically protected," Wynne said grimly.

"Of course it is," Eruestan sighed. He stepped forward and reached out with his mind, trying to see what kind of spell it was. He gasped as a wave of white-hot energy forced him back.

"This is a very powerful spell," he said, frowning. "I'm not sure if we'll be able to—"

With a CRASH, Oghren kicked down the door, his dwarven resistance to magic protecting him from the spell.

"…that works too…" Eruestan said slowly.

He walked through the door and pointed his hands in the air. The light dancing around his fingers shot out and magnified, bathing the whole room in light.

Eruestan felt his jaw drop.

"Sweet Maker," he whispered in awe.

Shelves upon shelves upon shelves full of lyrium lined the wall, all shining an electric blue. It seemed to sing out to Eruestan, a pretty melody that made him lose his train of thought. He had never seen so much lyrium in one place before, not even at the Circle Tower.

"How long did it take to stockpile all this?" he said wondrously.

Oghren turned to reply; however, Eruestan stopped listening and started looking down the chamber. It seemed to stretch on for miles! His eyes darted around, trying to see if there was any end to it in sight. My, wasn't that pretty tile work? Was that a rabbit on the ground? He liked rabbits. Suddenly, his arm itched; with a rather manic laugh, he scratched it vigorously, and then jumped into the air with a loud scream when someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Eruestan?" Rowena said carefully, looking at him with concern. "You alright there?"

"_Of course I'm alright!_" he said, so fast it was hard to distinguish actual words. "_Why wouldn't I be alright?"_

Rowena stared at him as he began to bounce up and down so fast it looked like he was vibrating. "Um, Wynne? Do you think you could—"

She turned around to see Wynne following an invisible fly with her eyes, hand twitching at her side. Behind her, Morrigan seemed to have developed a facial tic, her head jerking so violently it looked like she was having a fit.

"Ok, time for the mages to go," Rowena said hurriedly, ushering the three out of the room and up the stairs.

"_But I wanna…wanna…_want to…" Eruestan stopped suddenly, confused. "Whoa. What just happened?"

"I think you had a little too much exposure to the lyrium," Rowena grinned. "Just wait outside the chantry for us. We'll be back up in a few minutes."

"Yes, of course," Wynne said, shaking her head. She began to climb up the stairs. "Please don't be long, Rowena—the less I see of this place, the happier I'll be."

Rowena nodded, and then walked back into the lyrium chamber. "So what's the plan from here?" she asked quickly to the others.

"That's the thing," Alistair said glumly. "We're going to have to leave it here for now. There's way too much to carry back to Orzammar."

"But we can't just let it stay here!" Oghren shouted. "Any one of those sodding topsiders could jus' walk right in and take it!"

"We're just going to have to take that risk," Alistair replied.

Oghren planted his feet firmly. "I'm not leavin' this lyrium, boy," he snarled.

"There's no other way, Oghren," Rowena said patiently. "We can't stay here, we shouldn't split up, and we can't take it with us."

His face screwed up. "No other way, huh? How 'bout this?" He plowed into her, knocking her back into Leliana. They began to brawl, rolling around on the floor like madmen.

Alistair sighed, and turned to Sten. "We should probably get involved in this, shouldn't we?"

The Qunari said nothing.

"Thanks, Sten," Alistair muttered, half-heartedly throwing himself into the fight.

Outside the chantry, Eruestan rested his head against a wall, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Over-exposure to lyrium was like eating a pound of sugar, then dousing it with a large amount of pure caffeine. He started to develop a headache.

What didn't help things was the fact that the Taint was setting off signals in his mind again. The foul whispers screamed darkspawn—however, Eruestan waved them off.

Wynne plopped down beside him. "My!" she said breathlessly. "It's been a long time since I've seen that much lyrium!"

"Wonder upon wonders, yet another 'long time' to add to Wynne's life," Morrigan yawned. "'Tis such a surprise."

"Thank you, Morrigan," Wynne said coolly. "That warmed my heart." She turned to the elf slumped next to her. "Are you feeling alright, Eruestan?"

"Yes, I—" Eruestan suddenly stopped, eyes wide. The whispers were getting louder, it seemed. He looked around wildly—there were no darkspawn to be seen, yet he was sure he was sensing them. Something was not right.

Wynne, however, attributed his wild gaze to lyrium exposure and said soothingly, "There, there. Elves always react to lyrium more violently than the other races. You'll probably stop feel—"

"Sh," Eruestan said quietly, holding up his hand. He was now almost certain that he was sensing something.

"Do you feel that?" he asked quickly, his hand to the ground.

"Feel what?"

"The ground's rumbling," Eruestan said incredulously. The whispers in the back of his mind were now growing louder and louder until it was as if they were right behind him. The rumbling began to increase as well, so much that Eruestan found himself shaking.

"What's going on?" Wynne cried, leaping to her feet. "Is there an earthquake?"

"No," Eruestan said slowly, face pale. "It's—"

Before he could finish, the earth exploded in a loud BOOM! The three mages crouched into a fighting position, struggling to see through the clouds of dirt. As the dust cleared, they could make out a gaping hole now in the middle of the chantry courtyard.

Taking a deep breath, Eruestan crept forward and peered down below into the abyss.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, out of nowhere a deformed hand grasped his robes and pulled him down into the darkness.

Down below, Rowena and Alistair broke free of the fighting and jumped to their feet.

"Did you feel that?" Rowena gasped. Alistair nodded quickly. Without another look back, they tore up the stairs to the surface. Confused, the rest of the party followed their lead up top.

Pulling out from behind the altarpiece, Leliana gasped in horror at what she saw. A horde of darkspawn was descending on the chantry, streaming out of a massive crater in the courtyard. Alistair and Rowena were racing forward to come to the aide of Wynne and Morrigan, who were fighting valiantly to keep the darkspawn at bay. With a grim nod, Leliana, Sten, and Oghren pitched themselves to the fight as well.

_But where is Eruestan?_ Leliana thought worriedly as she fired an arrow into the head of a hurlock. _Surely he would be fighting?_ Then, she saw something that made her heart stop.

Lying at the edge of the crater was a very familiar magic staff.

Rowena pummeled a hurlock with her shield, ducked to avoid Sten's sword, and then swirled around to stab a genlock through the chest. She quickly slipped through a flurry of darkspawn blades to simultaneously decapitate the two hurlocks that were causing it. Sensing something behind her, she ducked and swooped around to kill it. However, before she could, the shriek looming over her had its skull smashed in by Oghren's war-hammer.

A loud roar alerted her to the presence of a stronger opponent. She looked to the mouth of the cavern to see a giant hurlock alpha standing at the edge of battle, a large war axe raised over its head.

Rowena and Alistair exchanged grim looks. With a nod, they both dashed forward, swords pointed with deadly accuracy. The hurlock saw them coming and took a mighty swing with his axe. They both somersaulted under it and stabbed upward, plunging their swords into its chest. With a great cry, the hurlock fell to the ground, black ichor pouring from its wounds.

With their leader dead, the remaining darkspawn force crippled. Within minutes, the carnage stopped. Rowena leaned on her sword with a sigh of relief.

Wynne raced up to her, face stricken.

"Wynne, you're hurt!" Rowena said worriedly, pointing to a gaping cut on her face.

"Never mind that! Eruestan's been taken!"

Rowena went numb with fear. "H-how?"

"They grabbed him and dragged him under! We have to go after him!"

"Come on!" Rowena screamed, gesturing for everyone to follow her. She suddenly stopped and looked around wildly. "Wait, where's Leliana?"

The rogue raced through the caverns, heart in her throat. Dying torches were the only light sources available, and the many shadows meant she could be attacked by hidden darkspawn at any moment. If only she were a Grey Warden…

Bow drawn taut, she stopped suddenly at the sound of footsteps in front of her. Stealthily creeping forward, she peered around the corner to see two darkspawn waiting in ambush for her, weapons drawn.

With a cry, she leaped forward, firing two arrows with deadly accuracy. They were both dead before either fully knew what was going on.

Leliana dashed forward, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. She stood at a crossroads, tunnels leading off into various directions, all seemingly the same.

"Eruestan?" she called tentatively, not wanting to attract darkspawn to her.

Silence.

"Eruestan?"

Nothing.

Fear gripped her heart, and she threw caution to the wind. "ERUESTAN!"

As if on cue, a flash of light flared up at the end of the tunnel to her right. She flew down it, heart beating so fast she thought it would give out.

She stopped suddenly on an ledge, staring down into a large open cave. Eruestan stood in the middle, struggling to defeat the horde of darkspawn converging on him. Wave after wave of magic emanated from him; however, for each darkspawn he killed, it seemed another two stepped up to take its place. Suddenly, without warning a hurlock jumped from the crowd and pounced on the mage, knocking him to the ground.

With a fierce war cry, Leliana flew through the air and landed on the hurlock, shoving a small dagger into its skull. Eruestan jumped to his feet behind her and thrust out his hands, sending out a wave of lighting that ripped into a large part of the horde.

Knives drawn, Leliana fought with the energy of ten warriors, arms moving faster than thought. Darkspawn after darkspawn fell to her blades, until soon it seemed like she was wading in a sea of ichor.

However, no matter how well the two of them fought, they were still only two, and it soon became apparent which way the wind was shifting. It was clear that Eruestan's energy was slowing running out, and Leliana knew that there was no way she'd be able to fight the horde alone.

Eruestan, however, apparently had a plan. "Hold on to me!" he shouted, drawing in his energies.

"What?"

"JUST DO IT!" he shouted, focusing intensely.

Closing her eyes against the approaching horde, Leliana turned around and clung to Eruestan's body.

With a loud cry, Eruestan waved his hands in the air and thrust them out, forcing his magic upon the horde. The temperature around Eruestan and Leliana dropped dramatically, and the collected darkspawn froze solid.

Gritting his teeth, Eruestan drew in his breath and forced out with his mind, sending a shockwave ripping into the horde. With an enormous crash, the darkspawn shattered into a million pieces, sending ice and ichor flying everywhere.

With a groan, Eruestan flopped to the floor, unable to support himself. Leliana quickly stooped to catch him.

He grinned wearily. "Where's all that lyrium now that I need it?"

She laughed, immense relief flooding through her body. If she hadn't gotten there right when she did…no, she mustn't think that. People went crazy thinking about things like that.

Besides, she had another problem on her hands. How was she going to get out of here? Eruestan was far too heavy to carry back up the cliff, and even if she managed to do that she doubted she could find her way back to the surface from there. She furrowed her eyebrows, searching desperately for a way out.

However at that moment, like an answer to her prayers, Rowena's voice resounded down the tunnels to where she stood, calling her and Eruestan's names.

"WE'RE DOWN HERE!" she shouted joyfully, voice echoing off the cavern walls.

She gazed lovingly at the elf she was supporting. He stared back at her with a mildly bemused expression. As she realized the reason for his confusion, she quickly withdrew into herself once more.

Eruestan saw her change in expression and groaned at his stupidity. "Oh, no, let's not ruin the moment!" he said quickly.

She smiled wanly, but the damage was already done. When Rowena and the rest of the party finally reached the cave, they found the two resting awkwardly in the center of the cave, surrounded by a sea of blood and dismembered body parts. It was like something out of a romance novel.

"This doesn't mean that there's a Blight coming, does it?" Wynne asked worriedly as she treated everyone's wounds.

The three Grey Wardens shook their heads. "No, every now and then a band of darkspawn will break through to the surface," Eruestan said grimly. "It's just a good thing that we were here when this one did."

Wynne shuddered. "All these poor people would have been defenseless," she said with horror as she stared at the villagers who were now loading up the team's supplies. The villagers at the camp had heard the sounds of battle and come to investigate. When they saw the heroes of Ferelden coming out of a giant hole in the ground in front of the chantry surrounded by dead darkspawn, they saw it as a sign from the Maker that they should support the King in his conquests. Or, at least, that's what Eruestan convinced them to believe.

The excellent part of it was that now they had guardians for the lyrium. After much persuasion, a little extortion, and a lot of brawling, Oghren had begrudgingly admitted that there wasn't much that could get through a loyal Ferelden. Besides, even if Anora did attack Lothering, it would just add another reason to their claim that she was unfit to rule.

Eruestan stared grimly at a map of Ferelden, tracing the long journey from Lothering to Orzammar. He grimaced and rubbed his ear-tips as his finger ran across the mighty Frostback Mountains. This was going to be a very long walk.

He threw the map aside and stared across the courtyard. Wynne was busy bathing Leliana's hand in blue light, healing the fractured bones there. Wincing in pain, Leliana looked up and made direct eye contact with him.

They stared sadly at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. Then Wynne finished her spell and made her move aside to let Morrigan sit down.

He heard someone flop down next to him. He turned to see Alistair and Rowena smiling sympathetically back at him.

"Well, look on the bright side," Alistair said. "She could have let you die down there."

"That's true," Rowena said. "She can't hate you _too_ much."

Eruestan grinned in spite of himself, appreciative of their efforts. However, that was easy for them to say—they had each other.

But enough thinking; for now, at least. The road ahead would be treacherous enough without heartbreak getting in the way.


	15. A Frosty Welcome

_I'd just like to take this time to thank all the awesome people who have subscribed, favorited, and (especially) reviewed this story—in particular the wonderful mille libri. I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I'm really glad that (so far) you seem to be enjoying it! Please, feel free to comment/critique. It really makes my day!_

The mage bowed his head to the ground, kissing the floor in front of the throne.

"Oh, get up!" Anora snapped, staring at him in disgust. For a First Enchanter, Arlon was proving to be extremely disappointing.

The mage obliged reluctantly, rising to his knees. "Madame, I assure you, had I not—"

Anora cut him off with a deadly glare. "I am displeased, Arlon," she said wrathfully. "Not only did you fail to capture the Grey Wardens, you managed to alienate the entire northern Bannorn with your bull-headed actions at West Hill! How _dare_ you kill a Revered Mother? How does that make me look? They already say that I have gone mad—what shall they say when they hear that my men have taken to killing innocent Chantry priestesses?"

"Your Majesty, please, I—"

"Not to mention the men I lost in your battle!" Her eyes flashed. "45 men, Arlon! 45! How could you possibly have lost to five warriors?"

"That was not my fault, Majesty." On this point, Arlon seemed firm. "Had the Templar followed my orders, we could have left the chantry before the sister attacked."

"Cullen," Anora breathed viciously. Another disappointment. "You're sure you saw him die?"

The mage nodded, his eyes betraying no emotion. "The Qunari ripped him to shreds in front of me."

Anora looked at him suspiciously; it was impossible to tell whether or not he was lying. However, a horrible scream from the courtyard drew her attention away from the mage. She looked out to see a young woman being forced to the executioner's block. Anora closed her eyes as the blade fell and ended in a loud CHOK. The usurper took a deep breath—that sound, once so repulsive to her, was now the sound of security.

She suddenly found she didn't care about what happened to the Templar, so long as he was dead. She shrugged her shoulders. "Then there is one less head to roll," she said indifferently.

Arlon bent to the ground once more. "Majesty, there is one more issue I would speak to you about."

She stared at him coldly. "I hope I will be pleased about this."

Arlon regained eye contact. "Our spies in the south have stated that the Grey Wardens have left Lothering for the west."

Anora's eyes widened. "You don't suppose…"

"What's more," he interrupted, "they have managed to convince the villagers to stand watch in front of the old chantry."

Anora fell back on her throne, blood pressure slowly rising. "They head to the west, you say?" she asked with a deathly stillness.

"From all accounts, yes."

"Then they head to Orzammar to inform Harrowmont of our treachery." She closed her eyes. "What chances do we have of intercepting them?"

"Next to none, Majesty. They have a week's lead on us, and with the speed of those Anders mercenaries we'd reach the dwarven kingdoms by the time you had grandchildren." The mage sniffed. "Really, Madame, had you enlisted the aid of more Orlesian warriors, this would not have been an issue, but..."

"You are in no position to critique me, Arlon!" Anora snapped. Resting her head upon her hand, she stared thoughtfully into the distance. "If we cannot stop them, King Harrowmont will certainly know of what I did," she said slowly. "However…"

She rose to her feet once more. "The dwarves are hesitant to draw their armies out of Orzammar because of their battles with the darkspawn. We must remind them why I am Queen and the Therins are on the run." She shot a shrewd look at the mage at her feet. "Prepare your men for battle—you march for Orzammar at daybreak. Should you meet with resistance…well, just make sure that you don't."

The mage nodded, a dark smile spreading across his face. Those Grey Wardens would pay for their blows against his reputation.

The party trudged wearily up the mountain pass, cloaks wrapped tightly around their bodies to fight off the dropping temperatures.

"This whole journey has been nothing but battle and freezing cold," Eruestan grumbled. "Next time, I say we do this someplace warm. Like Seheron—yeah, Seheron!"

"You would not last long in Seheron," Sten said calmly. "The Qunari would see to that, trust me."

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant, Sten, I wasn't saying we should attack Seheron or anything…"

"I do not recommend it," the Qunari said with an air of finality.

"Oh, the big bad Qunari, laying down the law for everyone," Eruestan muttered. It got a little tiring to constantly hear how much better the Qunari were at everything.

Something trembled to his right; he looked over to see Leliana shivering in the wind. He immediately felt guilty. At least he had his robes under his cloak to keep him warm—all she had was a small suit of light armor from Orlais.

He reached up to unbuckle the clasp from his cloak, then stopped suddenly. Seeing how Leliana had avoided him like the plague ever since their time at Lothering, he realized that maybe going up to her might only make matters worse. So yes, maybe it'd be better not to do anything.

Still, it made his heart ache to watch her shiver like that…surely a bit of embarrassment was worth keeping her warm…

However, before he could walk over to her, Rowena cried out excitedly from the front and pointed to something before her. Straining his eyes, Eruestan was able to make out a large stone arch from the snow, and instantly felt ten times warmer.

They had reached the outskirts of Orzammar.

The party stood with relief under the giant arch, watching life beyond for a moment. As usual, the trading camp beyond was bustling, full of surface dwarves wishing to pawn off their cheap wares to unsuspecting topsiders. Throughout the camp, people huddled together in large packs, trying to block out the frigid mountain wind that was now pulling on tents, cloaks, and whatever else it could find. The gargantuan city gates loomed in the background, a grim reminder set in stone of who was in charge.

The group began to make its way through the crowd, careful to avoid bumping in to anyone. Eruestan kept his eyes strictly forward, not wanting to let any of the merchants reel him in. Leliana, however, made the fatal error of lingering a little too long at someone's booth.

"You like shoes, little lady?" the merchant asked gruffly. "I can get you a real good deal."

She picked one up and laughed—it fit in the palm of her hand. "They are very pretty," she admitted, "but I think you are going to have to wait for my feet to shrink first."

"Hey, that's no problem, lady." He whipped the shoes away and pulled out a tray of amulets. "How 'bout some charms? Right here—solid gold, ripped of Andraste's body herself as the Tevinters were lightin' the fires."

Leliana frowned. "But that is preposterous! Andraste did not wear any adornments on the day of her execution as a sign of faith in the Maker! And besides," she said with a gasp, pointing to the dwarven runes carved to one side, "this clearly says that this was made three months ago in Orzammar!"

The dwarf's eyes narrowed. "You doubtin' the quality of my wares, lady? Ol' Hroth doesn't take too kindly to people scarin' away his clients." He suddenly jolted and put a hand to the dagger lying in his belt. "You're workin' for Ingrid, ain't cha?"

"What? No!" She turned to leave—however, Hroth slapped his hand on her wrist. She whirled around, shocked.

"You and that Duster Ingrid are gonna regret messin' with Hroth!" he yelled.

"Is there a problem?" Eruestan asked quietly, walking up from behind Leliana.

"That depends," the dwarf growled. "You lookin' to buy?"

"Let the girl go, now," Eruestan said calmly, "or else trust me, you'll wish you had."

The merchant saw Eruestan's magic staff and began to chuckle. "I'm a dwarf, mage!" he said smugly. "Your spells can't do anything to me!"

"That's true," Eruestan said thoughtfully. "But I bet they _can_ do something to your wares."

"Well, now, let's not get too hasty!" the dwarf said hurriedly, face paling. "Here, lady, take this bracelet as a…a…"

"A bribe?" she said innocently, taking it from his hands.

"Hey, you're the one who said it, not me." He looked over their shoulders at someone behind them. "Now, couldja please move? You're blockin' traffic."

As they stepped aside, Leliana turned to Eruestan. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I really was not looking forward to killing him."

"Well, that's me," he said with a grin. "Always here when you need me."

_For now_, she thought sadly. She cleared her throat and looked back at the group, who seemed impatient to get moving. "Let's go," she said roughly. "We have work to do."

He stared at her wearily. With a desperate look in his eye, he reached out with his hand—and for an insane moment, she thought she was going to take it. Then, the wind picked up, bringing her back to her senses. She quickly turned around and heading back to the group, condemning herself for her lack of willpower.

Eruestan watched Leliana walk away, his heart throbbing. For a moment, he had thought…but that was ridiculous. And anyways, hadn't he promised himself to not think about her for a while? He sighed. Was that even possible?

The wind howled dramatically, and Eruestan clutched his cloak tightly around his body. He closed his eyes firmly shut, the wind roaring in his frosted ears. Therefore, he didn't notice the sheet of parchment that flew out of his pocket and into the air, finally landing at the feet of a man who was hidden by a large hood…a man who had been greedily watching the Grey Wardens since their arrival.

Cullen picked up the parchment excitedly, hands trembling as he turned it over. It was a map of Ferelden; someone had hastily scribbled "Surana Family" at the top. Below, six names were written down carefully, with arrows pointing them to various locations across the country.

A malicious grin began to spread across Cullen's face. _This is surely a gift from the Maker_, he thought in raptures. He knew that if he waited long enough in the Frostbacks the Grey Wardens would come to report Her Majesty's theft of the lyrium, and now his patience was paying off.

_I can't wait to see the look on that damn Orlesian's face_, Cullen thought cheerfully. _The Queen will be overjoyed.!To think that I found the one thing to bring that elven bastard to his knees! Thank the Maker!_

Careful not to be noticed, the Templar slipped away into the crowd, visions of glory and vengeance dancing through his mind.

No matter how many times she came to Orzammar, Rowena would always be in awe of the massive size of the city gates.

Orzammar was carved into a mountain, built so that the dwarves could increase their trade with the surface. It was made to impress, and it certainly did that. Standing before the massive doors—almost like walls of the mountain itself—made her feel mildly insignificant.

Oghren, however, paid it no heed. "Rolfi!" he roared cheerfully. "How are ya, ya soddin' nug-faced bar wench?"

"I am fine, Oghren, thank you," the gatekeeper said respectfully. He looked at the rest of the group with an odd expression on his face. "Are these topsiders with you?"

"Think that goes without sayin', don't it?"

Suddenly, Rolfi straightened up, eyes shining as if he had just realized something. "Of course, how stupid of me," he said, winking at Oghren, who stared back with no reaction. He leaned over and whispered something in the ear of one of the nearby guards, who immediately leapt up, pushed open the gate a crack, and slipped through to the city.

Rolfi cleared his throat and pulled out a large slip of paper. "If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions before you enter the city."

"A _few_?" Alistair scoffed. "That's enough to fill a book!"

" I don't remember being asked any questions any other times we've entered the city," Rowena said, confused.

"Um…new policy." Rolfi stared down at the paper. "Name?"

Rowena rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "Rowena Therin."

"Age?"

"22."

"Occupation?"

She frowned. "Renegade/rebel/queen/warrior/Grey Warden?"

Rolfi looked at Oghren in surprise. "A Grey Warden? And a queen? Really?"

"That's what she said, ain't it?"

The dwarf shook his head in wonder, then looked back at the list and asked, "Any diseases?"

"_Other_ than the darkspawn taint running through my blood?"

He conceded that point, and asked, "Married?"

"Yes."

"Spouse?"

"Alistair Therin," she said lovingly, always proud to announce that to the world.

"Favorite color?"

She stared at him. "Really? Okay, well…blue," she said, thinking of Alistair's eyes.

"Any hobbies?"

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

Silence.

She sighed. "Fine. I like fighting."

The dwarf nodded, placed a check on the paper and motioned her to one side. Alistair took a step forward to head into Orzammar; however, Rolfi cleared his throat and asked, "Name?"

Alistair looked down in surprise. "You're not seriously going to make all of us do this?"

"Well, yes, we are."

"But there's eight of us! That'll take forever!"

The dwarf raised an eyebrow.

"Alistair Therin," he said with a sigh.

As the rest of the party went through the extensive questioning process, Rowena got the vague feeling that Rolfi was stalling for something. He added more and more questions to each interview, and every now and then he seemed to look back towards the city for something. Suddenly, there was a loud rap on the gate, and the dwarf put the page away right in the middle of one of Wynne's answers.

"That will be all, thank you," he said smoothly, bowing them through. "Welcome to Orzammar."

With that, the gates rumbled open, and the party walked forward into the city's atrium.

Several dwarves milled around the Hall of Heroes, staring respectfully up at the statues of the great dwarven ancestors, the Paragons. Perhaps in an effort to compensate for their lack of height in life, the Paragons were carved to be massive, towering over all who passed beneath them. It was a very impressive way to enter a city, and the dwarves loved to show it off.

However, many of the collected citizens did not seem happy to have foreigners present. In fact, some of them looked absolutely hostile. Rowena stared incredulously at a starving beggar who shot her a nasty look while hiding away his alms cup, as if afraid she was going to attack him.

"Something's not right," Rowena whispered worriedly to Alistair and Eruestan. "I don't like this."

"I know," Alistair said, staring up at the enormous statues. "These Paragons always kinda freaked me out."

"Wha—no, no, not the statues, the people. This whole situation. Didn't you get the impression that that 'Rolfi' what's-his-name was buying time?"

"Yes, I did start thinking that when he asked me what my earliest childhood memory was," he said, amused. "But what do you think, Eruestan?"

The elf jumped, snapping out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head. "What's going on?"

"We're not sure," Rowena said anxiously. "Something very odd."

Eruestan shrugged. They were now at the interior gates to Orzammar. The two guards quickly stepped aside and began to open them. "We'll just have to keep an eye out in the city."

Alistair and Rowena both stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. "I don't think we'll need to do that after all, Eruestan," Alistair said quickly.

The elf spun around and quickly jumped back, hands flying into the air.

Standing at the gates to the city was a small army of dwarves, all heavily armored, and all with deadly looking spears pointed right at their hearts.


	16. In the Halls of the Stone

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The party stood frozen at the end of the dwarves' spears, neither side moving. Finally, a man wearing an immensely heavy suit of armor stepped forward with a grin.

"Excellent work, Oghren," he said appreciatively. "The Assembly will be thrilled to have these thieving bastards locked away in the dungeons."

"What the—what in the name of the Stone are you talking about?" Oghren growled. "These aren't the thieves!"

The commander froze. "They aren't?"

"No! These are the soddin' Grey Wardens!"

"How do you do?" Eruestan said nervously, staring down at the metal still pointed firmly at his chest.

The commander smacked his forehead. "Sweet Stone, Oghren, why didn't you say something at the gates? Rolfi sent a messenger telling us that you had captured a whole horde of bandits!"

"Then Rolfi better stop goin' to Tapster's between shifts!" Oghren snapped. "For the love of the Stone, there's seven of them and one of me!"

Alistair coughed loudly and timidly raised his hand. "Er…hi. I was just wondering if maybe you could, you know, lower the weapons you're pointing at us? If it's not too much trouble…"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! At ease, men!" The dwarves lowered their spears like clockwork. With a sigh of relief, everyone relaxed.

"Have you lost your sodding mind, Marcus?" Oghren asked. "How would I drag a whole horde of topside warriors to Orzammar by myself?"

"Well, you could have tricked…them…" The man stopped. "Oh. I see your point. My apologies, Grey Wardens."

"Yes, well, it's quite alright," Eruestan said with a weak smile.

"Oh no, really, if in any way we offended you, I'm—"

"No, no, it's fine. No harm, no foul."

"Are you sure? Because we'd be more than happy to—"

"Just take us to the Assembly, ya nug-brained idiots!" Oghren groaned.

The dwarves shifted uneasily. "Well, there's a slight problem there…"

Eruestan sighed. He knew this drill. "Let me guess: Harrowmont's dead, and now we need to trudge through the Deep Roads to find a Paragon that will name his successor?"

"No," the commander said, staring at him. "Not at all."

"Oh," Eruestan said, surprised. "Then what's the matter?"

The commander sighed. "It's just…well, the king hasn't exactly been all that friendly towards topsiders lately…not since the lyrium theft, at least. He may not take too kindly to having the Grey Wardens in the Assembly."

"Is this not the man that we helped put on the throne?" Morrigan asked dryly. "How fitting that he should prove a hindrance to our quest in the end."

"I thought the king was specifically chosen by Paragon Caridin," one of the dwarves said slowly.

"Y-es, but, uh, she meant 'indirectly'." Eruestan said quickly, shooting a look at Morrigan. "The man we 'indirectly' put on the throne. I mean, we found Caridin, didn't we?"

"Look, Oghren, why don't you just go to the Assembly now and we'll just…explore the city or something," Rowena said quickly, glossing over the suspicious looks the dwarves were now giving the party.

"Yeah, do that," he said, clearly not paying attention; Eruestan saw that he was looking longingly in the direction of Tapster's Tavern. "Hey! I've got an idea. Why don't I just go to the Assembly alone, and you can wait for me in the city!"

"'Tis the work of a genius," Morrigan said sardonically.

"Thanks," Oghren said, beaming. "Tell you what. Wait for me at my house in the Diamond Quarter—my wife Felsi'll let you in."

"Your _WIFE_?" everyone cried, shocked.

"Didn't I tell ya 'bout Felsi?" Oghren asked, confused. "Huh. Oops. Er…don't tell her 'bout this, alright?"

Morrigan gasped. "So you have actually found a woman who _isn't_ compelled to turn to members of her own sex for comfort after a night with you? This _is _a surprise."

"Now that's just…" He stopped and licked his lips. "Mmmm…Felsi and another…you all sure you still want me to go to the Assembly?"

"If that look meant what I thought it did, yes," Alistair said quickly.

Oghren gave a disappointed sigh and motioned to the guards that he was ready to leave. The dwarves formed themselves into a square around him and led him off into the direction of the Assembly Chamber.

The party followed suit, walking from the Commons to the doors leading to the Diamond Quarter. All around them, dwarves bustled back and forth, trading and dealing out wares as usual. However, Eruestan noticed subtle differences in the people since the last time the party was in the city. All around them, conversations hushed as they passed by. Children no longer came running up to see their great heroes. Even the merchants, who normally you had to beat to a pulp to keep them away from you, let them walk by without saying anything.

"This is very odd," Eruestan murmured after a group of dwarves shot him a very dirty look. "You'd think they'd appreciate us finding the lyrium for them."

Wynne sighed. "Dwarves are a very strange race. I find that sometimes it's best to overlook how they act towards you."

"Really?"

She smiled. "It's the only thing that keeps me from killing Oghren every now and then."

The group came to a stop in front of a large mansion that looked surprisingly well-kept for somewhere Oghren called home. Rowena stepped forward and rapped on the door. A red-haired dwarven woman opened the door and stared at them.

"Whatever you're selling, I've already got two," she said bluntly, and started to close the door.

"No, no!" Rowena said quickly, sticking her hand in the doorway. "We're friends of Oghren's!"

She stared at them once more, and started to close the door again.

"Hey, hey, stop!" Rowena said quickly, staring down at her. "What are you doing?"

Felsi sighed. "Fine. Come on in."

The group ducked through the door and entered into a large sitting room full of expensive furniture. Two dwarven children wrestled on the ground, kicking, screaming, and pulling out each other's hair.

"Elsa! Tristan! We have company!" Felsi barked. The two children stopped fighting at once and stared bug-eyed at their mother. The dwarf turned back to them. "Please, sit down."

"_These_ are _Oghren's_ children?" Leliana asked incredulously. "But…they're so…cute!"

"You wouldn't believe how many times I hear that," Felsi muttered. "Trust me, they take after my side of the family."

"I'm guessing you do the house-keeping as well?" Wynne asked, looking around at the finely decorated home.

Felsi laughed. "You all must know Oghren pretty well, don't you?" Her face turned grim. "So what is it this time? How badly did he manage to insult you topside? How drunk was he?" She cast an appraising eye on Morrigan. "You're not carrying his child, are you?"

Morrigan looked like she was going to be sick.

"Oghren sent us here, actually," Eruestan said quickly. "We're his companions—maybe he's talked about us? I'm Eruestan Surana."

"Unless you're the elven prostitute who sold Oghren's pants for ale money, he hasn't talked about you," Felsi said frankly.

"Erm…no, I'm definitely not…wait, Oghren hasn't talked about us? We're the Grey Wardens!"

"Oh!" Felsi stared at him appraisingly, arms crossed. "So _you're _the infamous Grey Wardens." A shadow fell across her face. "Which one of you is Wynne?"

"I am," the mage said suspiciously. "Why?"

Felsi gave a very analytical stare at Wynne's chest, then rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Oghren's not here, if you're looking for him. He went topside a few months ago and hasn't been heard from since."

Eruestan jumped. "Oh, no, he's here now!"

Felsi froze and stared at him. "He is?"

"Yes! He's at the Assembly right now!"

The dwarf stood still for a moment, and then threw her hands down. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? By the Stone, you topsiders are strange!"

"Says the woman married to a man who once tried to spend the night with a hat-rack," Alistair muttered.

Felsi shot him a shrewd look. "You're Alistair, aren't you? The pike-twirler?"

He groaned. "For the love of the Maker, not you too!"

Felsi chuckled. "I hear you got pretty good at it too. Must have taken a _lot_ of practice."

"I never did quite understand whether or not that was an actual pike Oghren said you were playing with," Wynne said, mildly alarmed. "Maybe you could…elaborate?"

"For the love of the Maker, of course it was a real pike!" Alistair cried, horrified. "I don't do…_that_…"

"Reassuring for you, I'm sure," Morrigan said to Rowena, who promptly blushed and looked down at her hands.

"You all disgust me," Sten grunted.

"You're all even better than how Oghren described you!" Felsi laughed. She shot another suspicious look at Wynne's chest. "Some more than others…" Shaking her head, she rose to her feet and motioned for them to follow. "Here, let me show to your rooms."

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary," Eruestan said quickly. "We're only going to be staying here until the Assembly gets out, and then we're leaving."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're planning for the Assembly to make a decision within a few hours?"

"Well…yes," Eruestan said slowly.

"You must not know a lot about the Assembly then," she chuckled. "Come on, follow me."

"Really, though," Eruestan said quickly as he ran behind her up the stairs, "surely the Assembly won't take too long on this. It seems pretty straight-forward to me."

"Please. The Assembly would take a week to decide what restaurant to go to for lunch." She stopped at the first guest room. "Let's see…here, you two." Alistair and Rowena peeked inside to see a comfortably decorated room complete with its own bathtub.

"Baths," Rowena sighed longingly. "How I've missed you."

"Let's see…are you two together?" Felsi asked Eruestan and Leliana. They both instantly blushed and looked away. "I see…alright, how about you two girls share a room, and the elf and the giant do the same?"

"So long as Leliana refrains from singing while getting ready for sleep, I suppose I can manage that," Morrigan said calmly.

Eruestan was less placated. "Um…there's going to be more than one bed, right?"

"Don't worry," Sten said. "You can sleep on the floor."

"Thanks, Sten."

Felsi led Wynne down the hall to the last room on the left. "And this will be your room, Wynne," she said pointedly, still eyeing the mage (and her bosom) mistrustfully.

"…This is a broom cupboard."

"Hm? Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll manage." Felsi cleared her throat. "Dinner'll be ready at six. Feel free to rest up beforehand." She froze suddenly. "Did you hear something break? KIDS?" She ran down the stairs and out of sight.

Rowena shot a surreptitious look at Alistair. "I CALL BATH!" she shouted merrily, and ran down the hall into her room.

He sighed and began to follow her. "Probably should have seen that one coming…aw, and I stink, too!"

Eruestan laughed and shook his head. He then frowned sympathetically and turned to Wynne. "Are you going to be alright?"

She glowered at him. "I swear, the minute I find out what Oghren said about me, I'm going to…"

"What happened to overlooking the way dwarves act towards you?" Eruestan teased.

She scowled. "Lovely. _Now_ you start listening." With a sigh, she headed back to her "room" and began to try and make herself comfortable.

About two hours later, Eruestan rapped on the door to Alistair and Rowena's room.

"Come in," someone murmured weakly.

"Felsi got us all some clothes," he said, opening the door. "I just wanted to SWEET MAKER!" The two of them were lying on their bed with nothing on but their small-clothes.

"It's ok," Rowena said tiredly, staring at the ceiling. "It's not what it looks like."

"We didn't have anything else to put on except our armor," Alistair said in a monotone. "We didn't want to put it back on…so here we are."

"Well, here, for the love of Andraste, take these!" Eruestan said quickly, eyes averted. He threw two pairs of clothes into the room.

"Bed…so comfortable…" Rowena groaned. "Body…so tired…"

Alistair sighed. "Losing…will…to stay…awake…"

"Alright," Eruestan said shrewdly. "Guess you'll both just have to miss dinner…"

"FOOD!" They both shot out of bed and rapidly began dressing themselves.

"I wouldn't get too excited," Eruestan said amusedly as they swiftly began making themselves decent. "It is dwarven cooking, after all."

"Are you kidding me?" Alistair said as he pulled on a pair of pants. "I'd eat a deep-stalker, I'm so hungry."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to having nug," Rowena said cheerfully. "Maker's breath, who owned this dress? A Qunari?"

Eruestan chuckled—his own clothes were a few sizes too small. He smiled and turned to leave.

"Ah…there was something we wanted to talk to you about, actually," Alistair said quickly as he tied a belt around his tunic.

"Oh?"

"Yes, well, we were thinking…"

"Really?"

"Yes, it's quite a surprise, isn't it? Anyways, the two of us were thinking…that maybe it's time to start gathering an army."

Eruestan frowned. "Why would we do that?"

"Well, think about it. The Dalish have already said they'd help, and now that the dwarves are on our side…"

"Plus, West Hill and Lothering will help us, along with Highever and Redcliffe," Rowena added. "We've practically already got an army right now!"

Eruestan shook his head. "No, that's not…"

Alistair sighed. "Look, we've got everybody back together again—let's _do_ something already. Anora's only getting stronger by the day…"

"Okay. Stop." Eruestan crossed his arms. "To begin with, we ARE doing something. We've already got a plan—stay out of Anora's reach while still giving her hell. Secondly, we don't have an 'army'. We have a few Dalish clans, whatever men Lothering and West Hill can provide, and Highever and Redcliffe. As for the dwarves…well, they don't look too happy to see us, do they? I don't think they're going to jump at the bit to die for us anytime soon. It'd be suicidal to meet Anora on the battlefield without the support of the Bannorn behind us. I'm telling you, guerilla warfare is the best way to do things from here."

"But what about—"

"NO." He closed his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. You're right, we need a plan of action. But I'm telling you, we're not ready for anything big yet. Unless Anora makes the first move, we should just stay put for now."

Alistair sighed. "I told you he wouldn't like it."

"Are you _sure_ it wouldn't work out?" Rowena asked a little sadly. "I'm just tired of being on the run."

Alistair snorted. "_You're_ tired of being on the run? I've been in hiding for almost a year and a half now!"

She grinned. "Yeah, sorry about that." She turned back to Eruestan. "So, if our plan won't work, what _are_ we going to do from here?"

"I…I don't know, to be honest," Eruestan admitted. "But whatever it is, it's going to be quiet—for now."

There was a knock on the door, and a servant's head poked into the room. "Dinner is served, sers," it said respectfully.

"We'll…talk more about this later," Rowena said distractedly as she stared longingly at the door.

"Yes, later is good," Alistair said quickly, his stomach growling ferociously. With a quick glance, the two darted down the hallway.

Eruestan started to say something to stop them, then suddenly realized how hungry he was as well. "Oh, sod it," he grumbled, and quickly leapt down the hall after them.

The three of them entered the dining room to find everyone else already seated, except Oghren, who was evidently still at the Assembly. However, this was a plus rather than a minus, as Oghren had recently taken to displaying his prowess in flatulence during group meals.

"There you three are," Wynne said as they quickly sat down. "We were just wondering when you'd come down."

"Enjoying the bedchambers, I see?" Felsi asked matter-of-factly; Alistair and Rowena both choked on their waters and looked away, mortified.

"Thank you for finding clothes for us, Felsi," Eruestan said hurriedly, bridging over the awkwardness. "I'm sure they were difficult to find."

"Nowadays, especially," the dwarf said ruefully. "Ever since King Harrowmont first suggested that damn isolationist policy it's been a nightmare trying to get things from topside."

"Isolationist policy?" Eruestan asked curiously.

She nodded as a team of servants began bringing out dinner plates heaping with food. "When the lyrium was first stolen, those fools in House Rendrak went in uproar and started blaming every noble in Orzammar for it. It took the Assembly weeks to sort it out—people were fighting in the streets, buildings were vandalized, I even heard someone tried to kidnap Lord Dace…just an absolute nightmare. Once the nobles found out topsiders were to blame…well, it didn't go over too well. Now, everyone's upset, and it's gotten to the point that the king is suggesting we separate ourselves permanently from the surface."

"He can't be serious," Wynne frowned. "Almost all the wealth in Orzammar comes from trade with the surface."

"Which is why it hasn't gained a lot of support yet," Felsi said. "However, a lot of big names are behind it, and it's drawing in supporters every day…plus those idiots in the 'Sons for the Sun' aren't making things any better either."

"Sons for the Sun?"

"They're a group of nug-brained Stone-lickers based in Dust Town," Felsi said irritably. "They say that we should just give Orzammar to the darkspawn and start a new life up top. We've had radicals like them in the past—people saying the Provings are too cruel, the castes are pointless, the darkspawn are really our friends—but these morons are a little different."

"How so?" Eruestan asked, frowning with concentration as he tried to slice off a bit of his very tough leg of nug.

"Oh, just rumors, really," Felsi said dismissively. "Some casteless have gone missing, and their families are blaming the Sons. It's a little silly, if you ask me—most of those Dusters are probably rotting in some cartel's prison—but, of course, now some people are saying that the Sons is really just a façade, that their real goal is to traffic people to the surface where they can be sold as court entertainers in Orlais, or as slaves in Tevinter."

"'at's turr-ih-bull," both Alistair and Rowena tried to force out through a mouthful of food.

"It's ridiculous, that's what it is!" Felsi snapped. "Honestly, it's only a bunch of idle gossip and rumor—no one _really_ believes it except those fools in the Assembly." She looked up at the magnificent silver clock hanging on the wall. "Speaking of the Assembly, what in the name of the Stone is taking Oghren so long? The Assembly let out an hour ago! I swear, if I find out that man's been at Tapster's…" Suddenly, there was a loud rapping at the front door that cut her off mid-sentence. She sighed. "And this is the part where the city guard wheels him in stone-drunk…Don't worry, Olga," she called to the maid as she rose from her chair. "I'll get it. Run and fetch a bucket and some napkins; I think we're going to need them." With that, she ran from the room towards the parlor.

"So what's this about that isolationist policy?" Eruestan whispered anxiously. "I had no idea people were so upset about the theft."

"I'm more worried about those Sons of Whatever she was talking about," Rowena said. "Regardless of whether or not the stories are just rumors, it sounds like something that needs to be taken care of."

"I agree," Leliana said quietly. "To be taken from your home and sold into slavery…no one should have to know that sorrow. What an evil thing to do."

"Or is it?" Morrigan asked thoughtfully. She look up to see everyone staring at her in shock. "Oh, do not look at me like that! You all have seen the squalor the dregs of dwarven society live in! I only note that perhaps life on the surface would be preferable to life among the dust."

"Even as a slave?" Leliana said incredulously.

"Even as a slave," Morrigan said coolly.

Suddenly, Felsi marched into the dining room with a look of righteous fury in her eyes. Behind her trailed a small group of men dressed in the armor of the city guards.

"Is everything alright…?" Eruestan asked slowly, warily eyeing the glinting weapons on the dwarves backs.

Felsi gave a cruel laugh. "Oh, no, everything's _fine_. Just dandy! By the Stone, I will march down there myself and beat his brains in!"

Eruestan shot a wary look at the city guard behind her. "Ser?"

The guard sighed. "I bear ill tidings, Grey Wardens. Ser Oghren wishes to let you know that he likely will not be able to come to dinner tonight."

Rowena frowned. "Well, why not? Where is he?"

The guard sighed. "At the moment? The city dungeons."


	17. Being in the Dark Rarely Ends Well

"Wait a minute, you did WHAT?"

"Ser, keep your voice down," a city guard told Eruestan sternly.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't tell him to keep his voice down," Oghren grumbled drunkenly. "If we wanna talk loud, we're gonna talk loud! THREE CHEERS TO ADVAR, KING OF THE NUGS! ALL THE FELLAS HE FIGHTS—THE LADIES, HE FUGS!"

"Charming," Alistair muttered, leaning tiredly against a wall. "He write that himself?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Felsi said through gritted teeth. "16 verses, all composed at our wedding."

"FELSI!" Oghren cried, throwing himself against the bars. "I've been lookin' all over fer ya!"

"Oh, right, because naturally I'd be at Tapster's!" she said angrily.

"A woman after m'own heart," Oghren said, smiling a little stupidly.

Felsi threw her hands up in the air. "I can't believe you, Oghren! You haven't seen us in months, and you _still_ go to Tapster's before coming home! Unbelievable! How do you think the kids'll feel when they hear their father went to the BAR instead of coming home to see them?"

"Oh…er…didn't think about that…"

"Oh, trust me, there's _a lot_ that you didn't think about. Like, for example, how you're going to get out of this jail cell. Or for that matter, where you're going to go afterwards, because believe me, you are NOT coming to MY house."

"What the—you're seein' that cross-eyed moron from the merchant caste again, aintcha?"

"How dare you! That was four years ago!"

"Yeah, I know how it is. Ol' Oghren leaves for a few months, and all 'a sudden it's 'Bring on the Dusters, boys! Felsi's a free woman!'"

"O-ho, you are lucky you are behind bars, because otherwise I'd…" She lunged at him—however, before she could go any further, the city guard pushed her away.

"OI! WATCH HOW YOU TREAT MY WIFE!" Oghren roared, shaking the bars of his cell.

The guard spun around in fury. "Learn some respect, you drunken bastard!" he snarled, drawing his weapon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Eruestan said quickly, stepping in between them. "There's really no need for that!"

The guard spat. "Get out of my sight, topsider, and keep your friend's mouth shut," he snapped. With a deadly glare, he stalked outside of the room and stood watch over the hallway.

"Oghren, what did you do?" Rowena asked in an awed whisper, staring wide-eyed after the infuriated guard.

"It's kind of a long story," Oghren said, chuckling.

"And we literally have nothing better to do," Alistair said. "So shoot."

He cleared his throat. "All right, so I head to the Assembly, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"So I get there, and they tell me to wait outside 'till they're ready for me. I, bein' the caring, considerate man I am…" (here, he was cut off for a moment by several derisive snorts) "…okay…I, being the man I am, didn't put up a fight. I sat outside in the antechamber and waited."

"And waited. And waited. And waited. Two hours later I was still sittin' there an' those soddin' nobles hadn't even opened the doors yet! So I did what any reasonable man would do…"

"Leave a message with the steward saying that you're going to come back tomorrow?" Rowena asked a little hopefully.

"Naw," Oghren said, shaking his head. "I went to Tapster's. That's where I met Arvo here…" He gestured to a blond dwarf who lay passed out on the ground at the back of the cell. "He got ignored by the Assembly too, but he was a little more pissed that I was. So we got to drinkin'…and talkin'…and then Arvo had a great idea."

"'Let's go home and not do anything stupid, seeing as we're both very drunk'?" Rowena asked again, this time a little desperately.

Oghren ignored her. "He said, 'Why don't we show those noble bastards you can't just mess with the lower castes.' I said, 'Arvo, you're a real friggin' genius, you know that?' Then I think I passed out for a minute. Then we both walked out up to the Diamond Quarter."

"We got to the Assembly just as it was about to close. The guards wouldn't let us in—Arvo decked one in the face and then I broke through, and then I…" He grinned broadly as he began to remember.

"Apologized profusely and offered to pay them back in full?"

"Hey, Firecrotch, who's tellin' the story, me or you?" Oghren grumbled, shooting Rowena a dirty look. "Anyways, after I busted into the Assembly Chamber I started crackin' on the nobles…think I gave ol' Lady Ildi the bird…then, I dropped my pants and let ol' Harrowmont see a moon for the first time in his life."

"Oh, Oghren," Eruestan said wearily.

"You shoulda seen the look on that Duster's face," Oghren chuckled. "Priceless."

"The Assembly apparently did not share your sentiments," Morrigan said dryly.

"Not that I'm condoning this," Alistair said, frowning, "but mooning a king isn't actually a crime. How are they keeping you here?"

Oghren yawned. "They told me, but I forgot. Oh, yeah! They're accusin' me of betrayin' Orzammar and stealin' summa the lyrium for myself."

"B-but that's ridiculous," Eruestan spluttered, completely thrown off. "You were sent to _collect_ the lyrium!"

"Yeah, well, the Assembly thinks it's real suspicious that I came back without it," Oghren growled. "I guess they think I'm workin' for Anora, that I was supposed to lie to them so she could hide it away before they could get to it."

"But we can vouch for you, Oghren!" Rowena said quickly. "You have witnesses!"

He chuckled. "You can try, sure. Won't work, though. Once the Assembly makes up its mind, there's not much you can do to change it."

Eruestan opened his mouth to reply; before he could, the guard poked his head back into the room.

"Prison's closing," he said gruffly. "Time to go."

"We'll get you out of here, Oghren!" Rowena called as the party began to shuffle back into the city.

"That's great," he yelled back, sitting down on his bench. "Bring me some ale the next time ya visit, all right?"

With that, the great stone doors guarding the prison rumbled shut, leaving the party with a great task in front of it.

The next morning, Eruestan awoke early and, having failed in rousing any of his companions from their beds, headed alone to the Assembly Chamber. From what he remembered, the Assembly was always swamped with complainants, and today should be no different.

However, when Eruestan walked in, he was shocked by the chaos swamping the lobby. Hundreds of angry dwarves filled the room, all shouting at the top of their lungs. Everyone was swarming around the steward at the far end of the room, who seemed to be having a hard time keeping things under control.

"Sorry, excuse me," he said quickly as he collided into a woman standing next to him.

She ignored him. "This is ridiculous. The Assembly should know better than to put all of us in a crowd like this! Ugh, I can't even see where Bandelor is!"

"Oh, here," Eruestan said quickly, getting a perfect view of the steward, seeing as he was a good three feet taller than everyone else in the room. "Lord Bandelor's over here, and," he said, wincing, "I think he's being mauled by two very angry young men."

She looked up at him, offended. "Did I ask you, topsider?" she asked angrily. "Don't try and rub your height in on me!"

"Er…sorry…" he said slowly; with a glare, she turned back to the crowd and began booing once more.

Warily, Eruestan started to wade through the masses towards Bandelor, taking care to edge around the irate dwarves. All around him, people shot him dirty looks and moved away, muttering darkly to each other.

Finally, Eruestan found himself at the head of the crowd, right in front of the Assembly's steward. Lord Bandelor had managed to fight off his assailants—however, he was far from being out of danger, and now had a safety escort around him for good measure.

"Please, sheath your sword, ser!" he shouted over the ruckus, face red from the strain. "Hey! I saw that! Oh, Grey Warden," he said, suddenly seeing Eruestan towering over the crowd. "Don't tell me you've come to see the deshyrs as well."

"Unfortunately, I have," Eruestan said with a grim smile. "But what are you doing out here? Don't you usually moderate the sessions?"

"The King has decided that it be best that he be in charge during the current situation," the dwarf said hesitantly. "So, for the moment, I'm on crowd control…or lack thereof, I should say. But anyways, what brings you here? Important Grey Warden business?"

Eruestan smiled. "If that'll get me through those doors, then sure."

The steward gave a strained laugh, still keeping an eye on the surging crowd. "Well, I'd let you in now, but I might stir up an open rebellion by doing so. In case you haven't noticed, the _dwarva _aren't too fond of surfacers at the moment."

"You know, now that you mention it I have picked up on a bit of hostility around here," Eruestan said, eyeing a very angry dwarf standing beside him.

Suddenly, the steward gave him a very appraising look and motioned for him to lean forward. "Tell you what," he whispered conspiratorially. "Shut these people up, and I can get you in there right away."

Eruestan smiled and nodded. Thinking quickly, he closed his eyes, concentrated intensely, and muttered a few words.

A small shockwave rippled unseen through the crowd. Suddenly, everyone in the chamber fell to the ground, unconscious.

Eruestan blinked, suddenly very tired. "There. They'll be knocked out for at least five minutes, which should give you plenty of time to call for reinforcements."

Bandelor whistled. "I'm impressed, Grey Warden. It's not every man who can cast a spell powerful enough to take down a whole room full of dwarves."

Eruestan grinned weakly—he really hoped he wouldn't have to do that again anytime soon.

With an appreciative nod, the steward stepped aside and gestured for Eruestan to walk into the Assembly Chamber. Squaring his shoulders, the elf stepped forward and pushed the doors open himself.

He walked into the midst of a violent debate.

"House Vollney will remember to keep the incident involving Lady Dace's dumbwaiter out of the discussion of this Assembly!" a deep voice rumbled from a distant balcony; Eruestan looked up to see King Harrowmont seated moodily upon his throne.

"I'll comply if House Dace will withdraw its complaints against the Vollney livery!" a black-haired man yelled angrily from his seat.

"Ha! Have that joke you call clothing right next to my estate?" a woman snapped from across the room. "I'd sooner cut my own eyes out!"

"Say another word, and I see that it happens!"

"ENOUGH!" Harrowmont thundered, sitting up straighter. "Deshyrs, we are distracting ourselves from the business at hand! Let us return to the subject of the surface."

Suddenly, a deshyr sat forward and pointed at Eruestan. "Your Majesty, we have a visitor."

Eruestan felt a bead of sweat drip down his neck as he suddenly remembered how nerve-wracking it was to address the Assembly. The Chamber was built so that each noble could have his or her own box; that being said, the room towered into the air, layers upon layers of seating for the eighty noble houses of Orzammar. Addressing the Assembly was extremely disorienting; you could rarely see the nobles when you spoke to them, and often times it was impossible to tell who had said what.

Eruestan gulped nervously, and quickly bowed before the Royal Box. "Members of the Assembly," he said respectfully, "I come on behalf of Oghren of the warrior caste."

Someone from up above snorted. "Well, at least _this_ one has some idea of how to present himself."

"Oh, get over yourself, Ildi," a young woman snapped. "You're not better than any of us, even if your great-grandmother wrote a book on etiquette."

"What was that? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over your third affair."

"That will do, Lady Ildi," Harrowmont said sternly. He cast an appraising eye on Eruestan. "I'm sorry, Grey Warden, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand why you've come here. What do you wish to speak about regarding Ser Oghren?"

"I'd like to negotiate his immediate release," Eruestan said firmly.

Murmurs rippled through the Assembly as the king sighed and rested back on his throne. Rubbing his temple, he gave Eruestan a stern look. "That will prove to be…difficult, Grey Warden. Ser Oghren is being held under scrutiny for crimes against the _dwarva_."

"I was aware of that, Your Majesty," Eruestan said calmly. "However, I feel that your actions are—"

"Are what?" a nobleman from behind said sharply. "Unfair? Inhumane? Cruel?"

"…misguided," Eruestan replied evenly. "I've been with Oghren throughout this entire incident, and I assure you, he is innocent of what you've—"

"And we are just supposed to believe you?" Harrowmont snapped. "Do you take us for fools? Grey Warden, you are a topsider, and a friend of Ser Oghren's to boot! For all we know, you could be involved in this as well!"

Shocked, the elf quickly shook his head and said, "King Harrowmont, please, be rational, that's…"

"Silence!" The king rose to his feet and leaned against the railing of his balcony. "Boy, our lyrium trade with your Chantry is the single most important deal the _dwarva_ has. Our entire economy relies on it. You couldn't even _begin_ to imagine the amount of gold that load brings us. Without that money…" He shook his head grimly.

"But we found it!" Eruestan said exasperatedly. "There's no need to panic! It's in a town called Lothering, which is only a week or two away from here. You could easily get to it."

"Forgive us if we're not reassured," a nobleman said coldly. "For all we know, you topsiders could have already spirited it away somewhere!"

"But we installed guards…"

"Oh, yes, because _no one _could get past a ragtag team of peasants," someone else said sarcastically. "What other 'protections' did you leave? A team of kittens? Or perhaps a death-squad of butterflies?"

"Deshyrs, I realize that our actions in Lothering were perhaps not the best," Eruestan said coolly. "However, the situation itself was…tricky, to say the least. There was too much to transport, and we couldn't have split up to inform you. I feel that—"

"And you couldn't have hired a caravan?" Harrowmont challenged. "Or even sent us a messenger?"

"That…is a very good point," Eruestan admitted slowly. "But what's done is done. I'm sure the lyrium will still be there—Anora wouldn't have had time to—"

"That's another thing, Grey Warden," the king said. "This blaming the queen business…it seems pretty convenient to me. Aren't you planning on challenging her right to the throne?"

"I only tell you what I know to be true," Eruestan said stiffly. "If the truth just happens to serve our purposes, then so be it."

Harrowmont frowned. Sitting back down, he grunted and said, "Your request for Ser Oghren's freedom is denied. You may go."

"Wha—Your Majesty, this is completely—"

"My word is final!" he said sharply. "Now get out of my sight, topsider, before I throw you in prison as well!"

"Your Majesty, you forget that only the Assembly as a whole can dismiss a plaintiff," one of the deshyrs said sternly. "I for one feel that the Grey Warden is telling the truth." Several nobles murmured their agreement.

Harrowmont's face turned red with anger. "Would you really believe this topsider—someone who has everything to gain by turning us against each other?"

"His Majesty is right," a nobleman said loudly. "We can't trust any surfacers!"

"Oh, but we can trust you, Lord Ressig?" someone else shouted. "Good to know—maybe now you can pay back your gambling debts!"

"I'll pay them back when you admit you had Ressig records erased by the Shapers!"

"Oh, can it, both of you!" a lady snapped. "You say the same things every day—just shut up!"

The two dwarven lords stood up, suddenly making themselves noticeable to Eruestan. Each drew his weapon.

"Say that again, Lady Ortan," Lord Ressig said dangerously. "I've been meaning to get some blade-practice in."

"THAT'S IT!" Harrowmont slammed his fists against the arms of his throne, instantly silencing the deshyrs. "The Assembly shall be at recess until the deshyrs have regained their cool!" With a cold look towards Eruestan, Harrowmont retreated behind a door next to his throne to the royal palace.

Fighting back his anger, Eruestan stormed out of the Assembly chamber into the lobby. A huge cheer greeted him as the line of now-conscious dwarves surged forward; however, the cheers turned to cries of outrage as the deshyrs began to file out as well. Eruestan grimaced—this was not going to make him any new friends.

He pushed open the doors to the streets to find Rowena and Alistair waiting for him.

"So, how'd it go?" Alistair asked cheerfully.

Eruestan scowled at them.

His face fell. "That bad?"

"Let's just say we might be here for a while," Eruestan said darkly. "Harrowmont now thinks that we have a part in this whole thing."

"Of course he does," Rowena said gloomily. "What'd he say?"

Eruestan sighed. "Just that we didn't try hard enough in securing the lyrium, that we're using it to frame Anora, so on and so on. I guess he has a point…unfortunately." He shrugged his shoulders, then frowned. "But where's everyone else?"

"Sten's doing push-ups in the parlor," Rowena said, rolling her eyes. "The show-off…as for Morrigan and Leliana…well, they had a bit of a disagreement…"

"That really does not sound good," Eruestan said nervously. "What happened?"

"Oh, you know Morrigan," Alistair scoffed. "Leliana probably said something like 'I like butterflies' and pissed her off. No big deal, really. Wynne was able to heal most of the scratch marks, so no harm done, really."

"'_Most_?'"

However, before either of them could respond, someone tugged roughly at Eruestan's belt. He whirled around to see a small dwarven boy running away with his money-pouch in hand.

"HEY!" He began to race after the boy, Rowena and Alistair in hot pursuit.

For a dwarf, the child was surprisingly fast—he raced through the crowds of angry dwarves easily, bursting out at the other end with ease. However, his three pursuers weren't Grey Wardens for nothing.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Rowena shouted as she blasted people aside, not bothering to waste time weaving her way through. The path clear, they began to sprint along the streets towards the thief.

He quickly ducked into a side alley. The three friends turned the corner just in time to see a door slam in a house a few yards down.

Warily, they approached the door, tensed for action. Eruestan leapt forward and burst open the door, ready to fight. To his surprise, the room was pitch black.

Alarmed, the three of them slowly stepped into the room, eyes darting around the place. Eruestan quickly raised his hands and began to summon a ball of light.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut, plunging them in total darkness. A pair of rough hands grabbed his wrists, breaking his concentration. With a yell, he struggled to break free—beside him, he heard Alistair and Rowena do the same.

Then, he felt a knife at his back, and he struggled no more.


	18. P Stands for Politics and Provings

_Did I really just do that_? Eruestan thought wondrously. _Did I really just walk into a dark room full of enemies? And I've been a Warden for how long? Have I _really_ gotten that stupid?_

He kneeled in the darkness, the cold steel of a dagger still pressing into his back. Belatedly, he realized that no one knew where they were—if the others went to the Guard for help, they wouldn't know where to start. Provided that the Guard wanted to help at all, that is.

_Ok, ok, stay calm_, Eruestan told himself quickly. _Just think your way through this. You've been in hopeless situations before…Right. So, magic…magic doesn't work on dwarves. Not good. Swords? Swords are…swords are back at Felsi's. Really not good. Maybe I could…_

But before he could finish his thought, a door at the back of the room opened, and a finely dressed dwarf carrying a torch walked in.

"Grey Wardens," he said politely. "So nice to see you."

"Funny, can't seem to say the same," Rowena snapped. "Who are you?"

"That I can't tell you," he said, handing the torch to a servant, who quickly used it to start lighting several lamps throughout the room. As the room filled with light, Eruestan saw that the dwarf's face was concealed by a small black mask. "I'm afraid, my lady, that I'm not allowed to tell you who I am. I've been instructed to keep both myself and my employer strictly anonymous during my dealings with you."

"And what would those be?" Eruestan asked coldly. "You already have our money, so unless you're planning to kill us, I doubt that—"

"Grey Warden, if we wanted to kill you, you'd have been dead the minute you walked through the city gates," the dwarf said casually. "However, we feel that you might be able to perform a...service for us, if you will."

"Well, when you've asked so nicely, how can we refuse?" Alistair asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, don't hold that against me, ser," the dwarf said. "Surely you of all people have seen how the _dwarva_ feel about the surface. My employer knows better than to risk his good name by mixing with the likes of you at the moment."

Eruestan raised an eyebrow. "You're not too good at flattery, are you?"

"No, perhaps not," he said. "But then again, I'm not the one with a dagger at my back, am I?

"Point taken," Eruestan admitted reluctantly, nervously trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker. "All right, what do you want from us?"

"Oh, the usual sort of thing for you, I guess," the man said lazily.

"'The usual' for us can go from exorcising orphanages to fighting werewolf hordes," Rowena said bluntly. "We're going to need a little more information than that."

"Oh, don't worry, this will be much easier than that," he said dryly. "Unfortunately, Orzammar seems to be suffering from a shortage of werewolves at the moment." He face grew more serious. "But now for business. Tell me, Grey Wardens, what have you heard about the Sons for the Sun?"

"Not much," Alistair said slowly. "And what we have heard was only rumor."

"Then you know as much about them as your average dwarf," the man said. "Well, let me tell you this—The Sons is an organization devoted to the goal of permanently bringing the _dwarva_ to the surface. However, the Assembly believes that the group is serving as a front for a dwarven trafficking ring that kidnaps Dusters and sells them as slaves on the surface."

"Yes, we'd heard as much," Eruestan nodded. "However, we also heard that the whole idea was just paranoia on the part of the Assembly."

The dwarf chuckled. "Well, that's the thing with the lower castes, Grey Warden—when they don't think the nobles are acting radically liberal, they condemn them for being paranoid conservatives. But let me assure you, the nobles' concerns regarding The Sons are founded in solid fact."

"Is that so?" Eruestan asked skeptically. "I'd like to see this solid fact, if you don't mind."

The dwarf raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers; instantly, his servant pulled out a bundle of parchment from his cloak, which he handed to Eruestan. "As you can see by the seal, these papers come from the Assembly Archives at the Shaperate. This first page shows that it's estimated that on average between five to ten Dusters go missing every day. Granted, many cases aren't reported, and sometimes even those that are aren't recorded—but still, up till now the problem has been fairly stable. Dusters reproduce like nugs, so the population has actually increased rather than declined. Now that the Sons have showed up, though, the number of missing persons is sky-rocketing."

"How many?" Rowena asked warily.

He stared at them gravely. "We're now at the point of more than forty disappearances a day."

"That's terrible," Alistair breathed.

"Yes, it is," Eruestan said, eyebrows furrowed as he flipped through the papers, "but I don't see why anyone's blaming a particular group. We've seen how life is in Dust Town—maybe there's been a plague, or food shortages, or…"

"Tell me, Grey Warden, during plagues and famines, who are most likely to die?" the dwarf asked, a hint of steel in his voice.

Eruestan looked up and shrugged. "The elderly. Children. People with weak constitutions."

"So tell me, then, if it's a plague or a famine affecting the Dusters, why have the majority of the disappearances been filed for young, seemingly healthy adults?" the man challenged. "Or why aren't corpses littering the streets…more than usual, at least?"

"Okay, so maybe something fishy is going on," Eruestan conceded, perusing the papers once more. "That still doesn't allow you to accuse whoever you feel like—just because you disagree with The Sons' politics doesn't mean—"

"Grey Warden, if you read that more carefully, you'll see that almost every case brought to our attention has involved a fresh convert to the Sons," the dwarf said quietly. "What's more, they almost always go missing right after one of the Sons' rallies. What can you say to that?"

"Not much," Eruestan admitted, eyes flying across the pages. "That is pretty damning." However, something still wasn't quite making sense. He shook his head confusedly and looked back up at the dwarf. "But there's still one thing I don't get—why do you care?"

The dwarf froze. "I beg your pardon?"

"Eruestan," Rowena said warningly.

He ignored her. "Look, we all know how you dwarves feel about the casteless. You treat them like dogs without even blinking! Every day is a battle for those people, and yet you've done nothing about it up till now! So, I want to know why it is that all of a sudden you've decided that you want to play the hero."

The dwarf seemed to think for a moment. "Well, Grey Warden, what ruling class doesn't look after its peop—"

Eruestan raised an eyebrow.

The man sighed. "Fine. My patron has a…friend…who's gone missing—a friend who's recently gotten involved inside the Sons' organization. So, my master wants you to take them out and find out what's happened to this…companion."

"So that's what you want us to do," Alistair said, frowning. "You want us to kill members of a nonprofit organization based on 'evidence' that for all we know could be forged?"

"In a nutshell, yes," the man asked coldly. "Isn't that what you do best? You've exterminated crime rings before, haven't you? It's old hat by now. And to be frank, Grey Wardens, it'd be to your benefit to assist us here."

"How so?" Rowena asked sharply.

"Your friend Oghren is imprisoned, isn't he?" He paused as the three of them nodded. "My patron is a powerful noble. If you were to do this for us, I'm sure Ser Oghren's release could be negotiated."

Eruestan looked back at his friends. They both shrugged, as if to say, _What choice do we really have?_

Eruestan sighed. "Fine. Tell us what we need to know, and we'll see what we can do."

The man grinned. "Excellent. Fortunately for you, we've already done most of the investigating—it's just up to you to do the dirty work." He snapped his fingers, and his servant produced yet another stack of papers. "The Sons base their operations out of an undisclosed building in Dust Town. We've tried to infiltrate them before—however, all of our agents have disappeared before they could tell us anything. From what we do know, however, it appears that these two men are in charge of the whole crime ring." He pulled out a picture showing two dwarves dressed in simple clothing and bearing a brand on their faces. "Hrani and Valgrind, brothers from the Merchant Caste who were stripped of their status for fraud and money laundering. They always stay inside their headquarters, so you'll need to find a way to get inside."

"And how should we do that?" Eruestan challenged. "We don't exactly blend in down here."

"What you need is this man," the dwarf said, pulling out another picture. This dwarf looked anxious, with slightly thinning brown hair, a clean-shaven chin, patchy clothing, and a thin scar running down the left side of his face. "Odyn Blooddrawer. We believe he's a contact for the Sons—sort of like a recruitment officer. Again, we've tried to intercept him for interrogation—however, the first time we tried, my men were…unprepared…" (here, Eruestan noticed that the man holding him down shifted uncomfortably) "and we lost him. He's been avoiding us ever since. However, we do know that he'll be at the Provings tomorrow—one of our spies was able to tell us that much. If you can find him and get him to talk, I'm sure you'll find a way in."

"So that's what we need to do?" Alistair asked. "Go to the Provings and find this Odyn?"

"My, you are smarter than they say, aren't you?" the dwarf said. "But yes, that's exactly what I want you to do."

"How do we know we can trust you to release Oghren after all this is done?" Rowena asked suspiciously.

The dwarf shrugged. "You can't. But what other options do you have?"

With that, he snapped his fingers, and instantly his henchmen brought the hilts of their weapons down on Eruestan, Alistair, and Rowena's heads. With a groan, the three friends collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious.

"I bloody hate dwarves," Rowena muttered dully.

They, along with the rest of their (un-imprisoned) companions, were standing in the middle of a queue that stretched all the way from the doors of the Proving Chamber to the end of the bridge leading into the city. All along it, Proving enthusiasts chattered excitedly about the upcoming matches—all the while, of course, giving the party black looks.

"Really, though, you should be grateful you came out of that alive," Wynne said, warily eyeing the group of hostile children behind her. "I still can't believe you just waltzed into a dark room full of enemies like that. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Morrigan yawned. "Are you still pursuing this topic of conversation, Wynne? Pity. I thought you exhausted everything you could have said about it last night. And this morning at breakfast. And when we first got in line."

Wynne shot her a nasty look. "Well, Morrigan, maybe if I hadn't been busy healing Leliana's WOUNDS I would have been there to help them out of that mess, and then we wouldn't have to talk about it in the first place!"

"Please," Morrigan snorted, "what do you mean, 'I could have helped them'? You get feeble by standing up too quickly from your chair!"

"How dare yo—"

"Wynne, Morrigan, knock it off," Eruestan said irritably. It was bad enough that he had been so stupid in the first place—he didn't need the two of them bringing it up every forty-five minutes.

"Besides, I don't know what you mean by _wounds_," Morrigan said, ignoring him. "I merely slapped her."

"And left gouges in her face!" Wynne cried. "It's a good thing I was there—you could have permanently scarred her!"

Eruestan quickly looked at Leliana, who seemed slightly annoyed with the conversation as well. Luckily, the deep scratches had healed perfectly, leaving her lovely face intact.

Morrigan shrugged. "'Tis not as if I went after her with a knife. I merely have long fingernails."

"Bah! I don't understand you at all," Wynne said grumpily. "You won't even tell us why you did it in the first place!"

Eruestan suddenly noticed a look of panic flash across Leliana's face, as if she was afraid of what Morrigan might say. However, Morrigan simply smirked and looked away without a word.

"Wynne, drop it," Leliana said very quickly. "You were able to heal me, after all. Besides, we're at the doors anyway!"

Sure enough, they had finally managed to reach the entrance to the arena. A very burly dwarf was collecting money, and although at first he seemed reluctant to deal with them, when he found out they wanted seven tickets (which cost well over five sovereigns), he cheered right up.

"Five sovereigns, for general admission?" Alistair said, shaking his head as they walked into the crowded atrium. "Sweet Maker—you'd think that would at least get us box seats!"

"Well, I don't think I'm going to press the issue," Eruestan said absent-mindedly as he perused a program. "Oh, great—today's the day for Honor Provings."

"Lovely," Rowena said sarcastically as she started peering through the crowd. "Now we get to add public executions to today's agenda. Just when I thought this all was going to be boring, too…" She shook her head. "I don't see this Odyn Blood-whatever anywhere; he must be in the arena already."

"Which means he'll be a lot harder to find," Eruestan said, sighing. "Perfect. Do you think we should split up?"

Rowena nodded. "Okay…how about Alistair, Leli, and Wynne take the area by the royal box; Sten, Morrigan, and I take the area by the concession stands; and Eruestan, you take the area by the fighter's entrance. That way, each group has someone who knows what this guy looks like, plus each group has someone who can do magic."

"Sounds great," Eruestan said. "Wynne, Morrigan, if anyone finds who we're looking for, just send out a spell wisp, okay?" The two mages nodded in consent.

"All right, let's meet up in an hour," Rowena said. With that, everyone went their separate ways.

Eruestan squared his shoulders and entered into the ring. Instantly, a wave of noise and chaos washed over him. Down below, two dwarves were fighting to the death in what seemed to be a pretty even match. However, all of a sudden one man's dagger slipped past the other's war-axe and stabbed the man in the arm. With a howl, the warrior tried to ram his opponent with the hilt of his weapon—however, the dwarf dodged the blow and sank his blade into the man's chest. The warrior fell to the ground with a groan, blood staining the stone.

_As if dwarves didn't have enough things trying to kill them_, Eruestan thought incredulously as the crowd cheered.

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed over the clamor. "The Ancestors have determined that Loki Vorntag was _not _behind the theft of Lord Dowlvish's apple tree after all!" the Provings Announcer shouted to the crowd. "How d'ya like _them_ apples, Dowlvish?"

Eruestan winced at the cheese oozing from that statement; the dwarves, however, howled in laughter and started jeering at the bloodied corpse. Disgusted, Eruestan tore his eyes away from the field and started searching the crowds.

It turned out that searching for the man was going to be way more difficult than he'd thought it would be. The dwarves would frequently jump up in excitement, bumping into the elf and breaking his focus. Plus, the announcer was helping matters at all—several times he'd felt like he'd finally found the target, only to be startled and disoriented by the man's jarring voice.

As time went by, Eruestan began to feel more and more desperate. Competitors were being dragged off the fields by the dozens, and yet he still hadn't got a single glimpse of Odyn. Eventually, the combatants would run out, and then where would they be? Frustrated, Eruestan sat down on a nearby bench, just in time to watch a heavyset woman throttle her former lover to death.

"It's a wonder there are any dwarves left," he muttered darkly to the cloaked, heavily-bearded man sitting next to him as the corpse was dragged off the field.

The man laughed. "I'd share your complaints, Topsider, if I didn't make so much money off of these poor dumb bastards."

Eruestan frowned as the next opponents began to file in. It was a team Proving—four noble warriors against three members of the smith caste and what appeared to be an elven mercenary. "So wait, you bet on the outcomes?"

The man grinned. "Naw, it's only betting if you don't know the results beforehand."

Eruestan stared. "Are you telling me these matches are _rigged_?"

The dwarf nodded smugly. "For example, with that last match, the man was drugged on his way here. Now, with this one, the warriors' 'weapons' are actually cheap imitations that should break upon contact with pretty much anything."

Sure enough, down below one of the smith's swords shattered in half as he tried to bring it down on the head of one of his opponents.

"What's more, the elf is a mage," the dwarf said, chuckling as the warrior slammed his hammer into his now-weaponless opponent. "That's what those idiots get for trying to recruit at the last minute."

"That's despicable!" Eruestan said in horror.

"That's business, my friend," the dwarf said cheerfully. He suddenly twisted his head towards Eruestan. "And don't even think about going to the guards—you'd be dead before you got out of your seat."

Eruestan rolled his eyes—another case of dwarven bravado. "Don't worry," he said wearily. "I'm too busy looking for someone to be—"

He suddenly froze and turned to look at the dwarf, who was still staring at him suspiciously. Now that he could properly see his face, Eruestan saw that while Odyn had tried to disguise himself with a fake beard and bushy eyebrows, there was one thing he couldn't hide—the thin scar tracing along his left cheek.

Unfortunately, the dwarf seemed to have sensed the recognition in Eruestan's eyes, because he instantly leapt up to run away. Eruestan, however, silently summoned a small grease slick, causing Odyn to slip and land flat on his back.

"Here, _friend_, let me give you a hand," Eruestan said loudly, seizing the man's arm in an iron grasp. The dwarf struggled ferociously to break free from the elf's grip; however, Eruestan quickly pulled out a small blade from his robes and secretly stuck it near Odyn's ribs.

"Just pretend to watch the match," he whispered calmly to the dwarf, who was petrified with fear. Down below, it was now two to four, the elf and the one remaining smith putting up a valiant fight. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on harming you."

"W-who are y-you?" the dwarf stammered out. "W-what d-do you want?"

"Not here," Eruestan said quietly, drawing on his energies to summon a wisp to alert the others. "I'll tell you once we're in a more private—"

Suddenly, the crowd gasped in anticipation as the last of the smith dwarves fell to the ground. Slowly, the nobles turned towards the mage, who had become extremely pale. Cautiously, the noble closest to her took a step forward.

"NO!" she shrieked, plunging a hand into her robes. She pulled out a dagger, and for a wild moment Eruestan thought she was going to chuck it at the man. Instead, she drove the blade into her chest and fell to the ground, dead.

"Crazy surfacers," the dwarf sitting in front of Eruestan and Odyn muttered. "What'd she do that for? Fool girl, killing herself in a Proving…"

Eruestan, however, felt like his heart had stopped. Still keeping his blade pointed at Odyn, he rose to his feet, a sense of dread growing inside him. He had a feeling he knew what going to happen next.

Sure enough, as the warriors cheered in celebration and the Announcer shouted the results, Eruestan saw the woman's hand begin to twitch. Alarmed, he looked across the stadium to see Wynne frantically pointing at the body, trying to get as many dwarves' attentions as possible.

But it was too late. Eruestan watched in terror as the elf's body began to convulse violently, a strange red light emanating from it. Around him, several dwarves began to notice as well, all rising to their feet as the woman's body began to rise in the air, contorting itself into horrible positions.

Suddenly, there was flash of bright red light, a violent bang, and then a wave of force knocked Eruestan to the ground. Leaping to his feet, he saw something that had haunted his nightmares since he had first come to the Circle.

Standing where the mage had once been was a twisted, demonic half-version of a living being.

In short, the mage was now an Abomination.

_Hello, Internet, do you remember me? We used to hang out together, right?_

_So sorry for the delay, everyone—I've been suffering slightly from the dreaded Writer's Block. Seriously, I must have re-written this and the latest installment of The Empress about seven or eight times (Empress fans, don't worry—I'm going to try and get the next chapter out by Wednesday)._

_I had a great time on my vacation, despite Florida's rampant heat!_

_Again, many thanks to my subscribers, reviewers, etc. for their support and patience. You rock!_

_Please review—it'll make my day!_


	19. In Which People Fight and are Lectured

For a moment, everything in the arena was silent. Then chaos broke loose.

Eruestan watched in alarm as hordes of dwarves raced away from the floor, all scrambling to get away from the leering creature down below. Suddenly, someone wrenched the dagger out from his hand and swept his feet out from under him, his head slamming back against the stone. Dazedly, he looked up to see Odyn Blooddrawer kneeling on top of him, pressing the dagger to his throat.

"Nice try," he said, ignoring the throng of people that was madly running past. "However, you're going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to get one up on Odyn Blood—"

At that moment, the Abomination cackled and sent out a wave of force that rammed into the dwarf and sent him flying back a couple rows, knocking him unconscious against the stone. Eruestan rose a little unsteadily to his feet, still off kilter.

"Look who'th sthupid now," he said with a slight slur; however, just then a rock whizzed through the air from the arena grounds and whammed the back of the elf's head. Seeing stars, Eruestan only had a brief instant to appreciate the irony dripping from the situation before he, too, slipped into darkness.

Meanwhile, across the arena Wynne, Alistair, and Leliana stared in horror at the chaos going on down below. The Arena guards had picked themselves off the ground and were now surrounding the creature, spears held tentatively in front of them. One man took a step forward; the Abomination made a terrible screeching noise and sent him flying into the throngs. The other men regrouped, obviously terrified of the thing in front of them.

Alistair brandished his sword. "LET'S GO!" he bellowed, starting to lead a charge; Wynne, however, grabbed his arm anxiously.

"We shouldn't," she said, eyes scanning the crowd. "We need to look for that man!"

Alistair stared back at her, dumbfounded. "PRIORITIES, WYNNE!" he shouted, ducking as another guard soared through the air. "In case you haven't noticed, we have a bit of a situation on our hands!"

"But still, we have a job to—" At that moment, a dwarven battle axe went zooming through the air, nearly decapitating her. "Oh, sod it—CHARGE!" Roaring, the three of them raced down the stands, eager to save the day. With a grunt, Alistair vaulted himself over the barrier and landed loudly on the arena floor; Leliana landed delicately behind him, leaving Wynne up in the stands to heal if needed.

The creature slowly turned towards them, eyes almost gleeful. Alistair scowled and tightened his grasp on the blade.

"Here's what we're going to do," he murmured to Leliana. "You create a distraction, and I'll—"

There was bolt of lightning that slammed into the beast, causing it to stagger dramatically. With a roar, it spun around to see Morrigan, Sten, and Rowena throwing themselves over the balcony as well, all tensed for action.

"…That works too," Alistair said, letting out a breath. Steeling himself, he let out a giant war cry and pitched himself at the beast. Ducking under one of its swipes, he sliced upwards with his sword, only to be repulsed by a wave of force that it sent blasting at him. Next to him, Rowena jumped over another of Morrigan's lightning bolts and swung down with her sword—the Abomination dodged the blow and, grabbing her ankle, sent her sprawling to the ground.

"What do you think—Hunger, Sloth or Desire?" Alistair asked, helping her to her feet.

They watched as Morrigan's next spell was reflected back at her, sending her hurtling through the air. "Definitely Desire," she said grimly, gasping for air.

"Lovely," Alistair said through gritted teeth. "Just when I thought this would be easy."

As Wynne's magic bathed Morrigan in a blue aura, the remaining four combatants warily circled their target, who seemed to be taking an intense amount of joy from the chaos it was causing. Exchanging dark looks, the party nodded at each other, each understanding what was expected of them. Without a second's pause, Leliana notched back three enchanted arrows and sent them flying, creating enormous flashes of light that temporarily blinded the beast. Enraged, the Abomination swiped out madly—however, it failed to fend off Sten, whose well-timed blow severed one of its legs. Screaming in pain, the creature collapsed to the ground, still swiping out feebly with its arms. Simultaneously, Rowena, Alistair, and Sten all plunged their blades into the beast, finally killing it. For a moment, everything was still. Then, all of a sudden, Morrigan was jumping in front of them, erecting a magical shield that contained the huge fire blast that signal the demon's return to the Fade. Silence filled the stadium—they were the only conscious ones there.

Rowena brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, that was fun!" she said brightly. Suddenly, a loud tsking from the stands cut her off. She turned around to see Wynne lifting an unconscious Eruestan onto her lap.

"Is he all right?" Rowena asked worriedly, crossing over to them; Leliana silently followed her.

"Oh, he's fine," Wynne said breezily. "Just took a beating to the back of the head, that's all." Matter-of-factly, she held out a hand and bathed his head in a white light.

Slowly, Eruestan opened his eyes, vision gradually focusing. Groaning, he pulled himself up into a seated position, head still reeling.

"What happened?" he said groggily, rubbing the back of his head. "Why do I feel like someone whacked me over the head with a mace?"

Wynne chuckled. "Maybe because that's what probably happened. Don't worry—that creature didn't really put up that much of a fight. We didn't manage to catch that Blooddrawer, though—looks like we'll have to carry on elsewhere…"

Eruestan eyes widened as he remembered just what went on right before he went under. Leaping to his feet with a yelp, he stared in horror at the row behind him and swore loudly.

"What is it?" Wynne asked, startled. "Did you lose something?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Eruestan snarled, for Odyn Blooddrawer was nowhere to be found.

"It's not your fault, Eruestan," Rowena said sympathetically, handing him a small sack of ice. "It could've happened to anyone."

He scowled and pressed the ice to the back of his head. They were back at Felsi's, all congregated in the living room to rehash battle plans. "Still, if I hadn't been so stupid, we might have been able to capture him. Now…well, now it might be too late."

"Yep, probably," Felsi said brusquely, bringing in a large silver tea tray—Alistair gave a cry of happiness and immediately began stuffing his face with pastries. "You really screwed up there. Surprising, really—aren't you all supposed to be experts at this?"

"Ith no' 'hat eaffy," Alistair said through a mouth full of teacake. "Th're's alotta fings 'uh 'ake in'o consdration."

"Pray, Alistair, has anyone ever told you what extremely nice manners you have?" Morrigan asked, a disarmingly innocent look sliding across her face.

"You know, now that you mention it, they haven't! Thank you, Morr—oh, wait. It's you. You're being sarcastic again, aren't you?"

"Was I _really_? How did I not see that? Alistair, you are truly a genius! "

"…We should have just left you in the Wilds where we found you."

"ANYWAYS," Eruestan said loudly, irritated, "the fact still stands that this was probably one of our only shots at getting information, and I blew it. I mean, unless he throws himself at our doorstep…"

Something rammed into the front door with a dull thud, cutting everyone off. Eruestan felt his jaw drop.

"You don't think…?"

"No," Rowena said, eyes wide. "Not even _we're_ that lucky."

Stunned, the elf walked across the room and threw open the door…to reveal empty space. Disappointed, he started to close the door, but was stopped by something in the doorframe. Bending down, he picked up a small rock with a scrap of parchment wrapped around it.

"What's that, Eruestan?" Wynne asked from across the room. "Garbage? Why on earth are you carrying it?"

"No, I think it's a message," he said curiously, carefully peeling the paper off. Sure enough, spiky handwriting was revealed on the other side of the parchment. Clearing his throat, he read aloud,

"_If you want a way into the Sons, meet me in the back of Tapster's at midnight. No weapons, no guards, no funny business."_

It was signed by a dwarven rune.

"Well, how ridiculous," Wynne sniffed. "As if you'd even consider meeting this man."

The confident look on her face slowly melted away as she realized that no one was agreeing with her.

"Don't tell me you actually WANT to do this!" she gasped, eyes wide. "After what you've been through in the past few days?"

"Well, we don't really have another choice, do we?" Eruestan said, a fire lighting behind his eyes. "Sure, we may not like it, but it's all we've got, right?"

"Plus, it can't be that dangerous," Rowena said reasonably. "I mean, the place will be full of dwarves, won't it?"

Felsi snorted. "Trying to stay safe in Tapster's is like trying to steer clear of venereal diseases in the noble caste—it's not gonna happen. However, you're right in thinking that you probably won't be ambushed in there…_probably_…"

"'Probably' is not good enough!" Wynne said shrilly, standing up. "I think the three of you have shown us plenty enough times recently that 'probably' doesn't really work out for you!" Alistair, Eruestan, and Rowena all suddenly looked very meek. "I mean, really, you walk into a dark room unprepared for battle and are almost killed—you split up in the arena and Eruestan is almost killed—that entire fiasco at Lothering got us into this mess in the first place…do you have any common sense at all?" She stopped suddenly, having to catch her breath—the three of them were all beet red, eyes firmly to the floor. Everyone else in the room had inched back in their seats, unwilling to take part in any of Wynne's wrath. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to calm herself. "Now, in all fairness, you have all exhibited quite a bit of courage, cleverness, and a mind-numbingly large amount of luck in getting out of these situations—still, talent and chance should not be proper replacements for prudence and caution, which you won't be showing too much of if you accept this meeting!"

Eruestan felt his face flush. Wynne had a point—a lot of the past situations had been a little too close to comfort for him. However, the burning humiliation and self-loathing that came with failure were too much for him to bear—catching this man was now an all—or—nothing situation. "I see your point, Wynne," he said slowly, gradually making eye contact with her. "But isn't that what we have to do sometimes? Take some risks?"

Wynne stared at him. "Have you been listening to a single word I've said?"

He sighed. "Look, I know that not everything we've done has worked out the way we've wanted—it's probably even caused more trouble than we're worth. However, we've always gotten out of it, haven't we?"

"He's right," Rowena said quickly, fending off one of Wynne's looks of outrage. "When have we ever gotten into a situation that was too much for us to handle?"

"Well, there was that one time at that campsite in the Brecilian Forest—you know, with that demon…," Alistair began; however, a subtle jab in the ribs from Rowena quickly shut him up. "OW! Er…I mean…yeah…we've got this…"

"Look, why don't we put this to a vote?" Eruestan said hurriedly, trying to skate over the rough patch. "I think you all know how the four of us think—Sten? Morrigan? Leliana? How about you?"

"For once, I agree with Wynne," Morrigan said imperiously, sitting up straighter. "Why should we risk our necks trying to meet this man in the back of some obscure hell-hole? 'Tis utter folly. What purpose would this serve?"

Eruestan frowned. "Morrigan, we need to do this to free Oghren!"

"Your point being?" she said coolly.

Felsi snorted. "Finally, someone's making sense!"

"Abandoning Oghren is not an option," Rowena said firmly. "Sten? What do you think?"

The Qunari looked at her ambivalently. "Çaresizlik içinde bir köpek bir duvarın üzerinden atlayacaktır," he said simply.

"Er…come again?"

He rolled his eyes. "A dog in desperation will jump over a wall."

"I…I still don't know what that means," she said deflatedly.

"I'll do it," he said impatiently.

She grinned a little pathetically and turned to Leliana. "Looks like it's up to you."

Leliana coughed uncomfortably and stared down at her hands, clearly unwilling to make such a decision. "I…I think we should," she said haltingly. "It can't be too dangerous, can it? Besides, if we'll be helping people…"

Wynne threw her hands up into the air. "Fine! We'll just get ourselves killed! No problem!"

"You can always stay here, Wynne," Eruestan said, grinning.

"And let you get yourselves into even more trouble?" she said grumpily. "My foot. I'm going whether you like it or not."

"Aw, admit it, Wynne, you're in this for the ale," Alistair said, grinning as well.

"Oh, everyone knows dwarven ale's rubbish," she said dismissively. "Now, a nice beer, on the other hand…" Her eyes lit up. "Perhaps this isn't such a bad idea after all…"

_New update coming ASAP!_


	20. Kings and Pawns

The group stood uneasily outside of the entrance to Tapster's Tavern, listening as jeers and drinking songs echoed onto the streets. On the front steps, a completely drunk man stared listlessly onto the city, empty bottle in hand.

"Right," Eruestan said grimly, setting his jaw. "This is going to be a quick, in and out sort of deal. We're just going to talk to him—we're not going to sit down at the bar, we aren't going to talk to anyone else, and we are absolutely NOT having any dwarven ale." Alistair's shoulders sagged.

"Now, remember, at the first sign of trouble we're leaving," Wynne said anxiously.

Eruestan nodded. "But like I've said before, we should be fine. Everyone ready?"

The group paused as the man on the steps began to vomit violently, dousing the area in the foul stench of liquor and bile.

"Excellent," Eruestan said faintly. "Shall we?"

Opening the door into the tavern, the elf realized that not much had changed since he had been there last. The room was filled with tipsy dwarves drenched in their own urine, and whole steins of ale were being slopped on the floor every other minute. Several dwarves had climbed atop the bar and were attempting to form a kickline—however, for the most part they merely fell onto one another and erupted into fits of hysterical laughter.

"How unsanitary," Wynne said disgustedly as one young man attempted to lap up his spilled mead from the floor. "That sort of behavior should be reserved for cognac at the very least…"

"Look," Rowena muttered to Eruestan, pointing to a lone dwarf sitting in a poorly lit corner. "I think I see him." Eruestan nodded and weaved his way through the crowd, expertly skirting around a group of dwarves who seemed to be mistaking everyone in the general vicinity for brontos.

Eruestan laid a hand on the dwarf's chair. "Odyn," he said firmly—before he could get another word out, Blooddrawer cut him off with a look of alarm and indignation.

"Hey, I thought I said no weapons!" he protested, shrinking away from them.

"Which, as you can surely see, we have complied to, buffoon," Morrigan snapped.

He pointed at Sten. "Call me crazy, but anything that could crush my head in less than a minute is a weapon to me."

Sten snorted. "As if it would take me that long."

"See what I mean?" the dwarf exploded. "You broke the rules!"

"It's perfectly fair, seeing as you did as well," Leliana said sharply. "Unless, of course, that dagger in your cloak is for decorative purposes."

Surprised, Eruestan glanced over just in time to see the dwarf hastily shove a flash of silver deeper into his cloak.

"All right," he said sheepishly. "You caught me. Go ahead and sit down."

They all complied, scooting in closer to the table.

"Now, I'm guessing you want to know more about the Sons," Blooddrawer said quietly, leaning over his stein.

"Brilliant observation, Professor Obvious," Alistair muttered.

"Well, you shouldn't," the dwarf retorted, glaring at him. "The Sons have amassed a lot of power in Dust Town, and regardless of what you may have heard, whoever runs Dust Town runs Orzammar. Take my advice: back off before you get too caught up in everything."

"Too late," Rowena said grimly. "Give us the information or Sten here will rip your legs off."

"You're a violent bunch, aren't you?" the dwarf said coolly. "Don't worry there, hothead—I'll tell you what you want to hear."

"That's what I'm worried about," Wynne said sternly. "For all we know, you could be leading us right into a trap. How can we trust you to give us solid information?"

Odyn's face darkened. "Let's just say I'm not in the best standing with the brotherhood at the moment," he said gravely. "It probably won't be long before I'm the one being shipped to the surface."

"So it IS a front for the slave trade!" Rowena gasped, eyes wide.

He shot her a dirty look. "NO, we're meeting in secret right now because I'm terrified of a group of men whose biggest secret is the fact that they dress like fairies every now and then. Also, sometimes, after their tea parties every Saturday, they go out on the town and douse everything in glitter. It's a real reign of terror, let me tell you."

Rowena blushed. "No need to be excessive," she muttered.

The dwarf ignored her. "Now, if we've all decided to keep our stupid comments to ourselves, I'd like to get down to business."

"Okay, Odyn," Eruestan said evenly. "Why did you want to meet with us?"

The dwarf shifted slightly in his seat and lowered his voice even further. "Look, like I said, I've been in pretty poor standing with the brotherhood for a while…"

"Why's that?" Wynne asked shrewdly. "Have you ratted out secrets before?"

He shrugged. "If the pay was high enough, why not? Hrani and Valgrind—they're the leaders, you know—well, they never could prove that I ever did anything, and my mother would always be in their way if they could."

"And your mother is…?"

"_Was _their sister," he yawned. "That's how I got involved in the first place. But that doesn't really matter now. Mum died two months ago, and lately there have been quite a few close calls from the city guards at our headquarters."

"I'm guessing you were the source of several of these close calls?" Wynne smirked.

"Perhaps," the dwarf said slyly. "But what you should know about Hrani and Valgrind is that they're two of the trickiest bastards I've ever met. I think they've finally found something out about me, and now my position in the brotherhood is getting shakier every day, especially now that you're all trying to contact me. I wouldn't be surprised to wake up in the cargo hold one day myself."

"So what you want us to do is kill your uncles so you don't have to be sent to the surface?" Rowena asked, looking as though something foul had crawled under her nose.

"Say, you catch on fast, don't you?" he asked brightly.

"You're disgusting!" she snapped.

"Is he?" Morrigan asked. "He is merely trying to survive the schemes of his uncles, after all."

"But you don't kill your family!" Rowena protested. "You go into hiding, or you ask the guards for protection, or you—"

"I had my own mother killed, Rowena," Morrigan said quietly. "You were not so vehement then."

Her friend visibly faltered. "W-well, that's…that's diff—"

Eruestan quickly leapt in. "Look, we're going to take these guys out anyway, aren't we? We've already got our motives; the fact that others have their own doesn't really affect us, does it?"

She bit her lip. "I guess not…still, I don't like this."

"I don't think any of us do," the elf said grimly. "But we still need a way in, and this might be our only chance. I say we go for it."

Several uneasy looks were exchanged across the table; after a moment, though, everyone softly murmured their consent.

"Great," Odyn said cheerfully. "Here's what I have in mind…"

* * *

The citizens of Dust Town stared sullenly at the magnificently dressed couple and their team of servants. Amid the squalor and death, the brightly colored pair stood out like a hurlock at a ballet concert. Greedy eyes lingered on the queen's sparkling jewels and on the king's gleaming sword; however, many a potential thief's dreams was squashed the moment they saw the giant Qunari mercenary looming behind them.

Meanwhile, the queen was finding it a bit rough to maintain her character. "I always feel so bad whenever I come here," she mumbled, trying not to stare at the one-eyed beggar who was silently watching her from the sidewalk. "I still can't believe that people actually have to live like this."

"Try it sometime, it's a lot worse than you think," Blooddrawer muttered nonchalantly from behind her. "Now look less sympathetic. Just think to yourself: 'I am the queen. Everyone else is scum.' Remember, you need to look like someone who'd buy a slave."

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Wynne muttered. "They're going to see right through this."

"Only if you keep talking back," the dwarf glared. "Now look more subservient!"

"I'll show you subservient, you no-good, scheming little midg—"

"Guys, shut up," Alistair said loudly; Rowena gently nudged him. "Er…I mean…You two, silence! Do you want another beating?"

Wynne's eyes narrowed. "No…_master_…" she said stiffly.

"That's right you don't," Rowena said haughtily. Gently lifting her gown out from the dirt, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, "Come, Ali, let's keep moving—these nasty beggar people are giving me the creeps." Making sure everyone in the area could see her, she imperiously whacked Odyn with her umbrella and said, "Dwarf, are you sure these…_people_…will be able to meet our standards? I'd hate to have to invest in something that was not able to perform to the best of its ability."

"I assure you, Madam, all will be as you wish," the dwarf replied, bowing with a grand flourish.

"Good," she said, lifting her nose. "Proceed."

"Ali?" Alistair whispered in her ear as they walked further into the slums. "Now I know why I don't have a nickname."

"Oh, don't you like it? I think it suits you," she said with a wicked grin. "I might even adopt it in real life."

"Let's not even joke about that," he grimaced. "Other than that, though, you seem to be doing pretty well.

"Thanks," she said in an even softer whisper as they passed by two children with three limbs apiece. "I'm basing everything off of a combination of Empress Celene and about fifty annoying noblewomen from my mother's sewing club."

The party rounded a corner and stopped in front of an ancient palace that was missing a large portion of its upper stories. Odyn slipped deftly from the ranks and walked in front of a panel of stone that would have been beautiful if someone had not chiseled "HAGAR PISSED HERE" over a small picture of flowers. Leaning in toward the dot of the i, he whispered a few words to what seemed to be solid rock. Within a few seconds of his doing so a door appeared in the shadows to his right where a small carved dwarf had once been.

Odyn stepped aside. "Right this way, please," he said smoothly.

Rowena crouched down and stepped through the doorway, walking into a spacious room that was surprisingly well-kept for being in the center of Dust Town.

"Impressive," she said, taken aback.

"You think so, my lady?" Odyn asked warningly, nodding toward several dwarves who were staring at her with wary eyes.

She blinked. "Well, of course, not nearly as nice as the salons at the palace of the Duc d'Ananacalcul-Lapin-Vingt-Cinq du Portemanteau," she said hastily, "but I suppose under the circumstances it will have to do."

"How gracious of you," an approaching dwarf said snidely, giving Rowena a chilly look. Her face fell even further when she saw who was with her. "I didn't know you were bringing visitors, Odyn."

"Their Majesties expressed an interest in our organization, Inga," Odyn said pointedly. "I suggest they see Valgrind and Hrani as soon as possible."

Inga stared back at him coldly. "Your uncles have been concerned about you," she said stiffly. "You haven't been here in weeks.

"I was recruiting our royal guests, Inga," Odyn said, a little stiff himself. "Surely you can see that that would require much effort on my part."

"I wasn't aware Their Majesties were in the city for so long," she said, eyes narrowed. "I do hope you're being careful, Odyn."

"The king and queen merely wish to help out the brotherhood, Inga," he said slickly. "Go on and take them to our valiant leaders."

Inga frowned, yet still reluctantly motioned for Alistair and Rowena to follow her to the back. Odyn, however, bowed and drew away.

"You're not coming, Odyn?" Inga asked suspiciously.

"Oh no, I'd only get in the way," he said smugly. "Hrani and Valgrind are more than capable of taking care of this."

She narrowed her eyes; after a moment, though, she seemed to decide to ignore him and started to escort her "customers" to the back. Eruestan kept his eye on Odyn as they passed him; the dwarf gave them all a smarmy salute and then disappeared through the wall.

They began to make their way down through the ruins of the palace, entering into a long corridor whose many branches snaked off into darkness in all directions.

"Where do all these lead?" Eruestan asked inquisitively, momentarily forgetting his place.

The dwarf looked up in surprise. "These are our escape routes, if you will," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "All of these lead to the surface at some point. Much better than having to navigate the Deep Roads."

"Ghastly things," Rowena yawned, lazily swaying her umbrella back and forth. "I don't know why you dwarves built them in the first place."

Inga gave her an icy look. "Believe me, Your Majesty, we weren't expecting the darkspawn to overrun them," she said frigidly.

"Didn't exactly work the way you wanted, did it?" Rowena asked cattily; for a moment, Inga looked as if she was about to explode. Fortunately, the dwarf bit back her pride and without saying anything more began to walk even faster toward the back.

As they continued to walk, Eruestan couldn't help but feel as though something was slightly off. "It's awfully quiet down here," he said slowly, looking over his shoulder. "Why is that?"

"You're very chatty for a servant," the dwarf laughed from up front. "With these two as masters, I'm surprised you get away with it!"

"What is that supposed to insinuate?" Rowena sniffed.

"Nothing, Your Majesty," Inga said, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, to answer your question, we've just been having a rough time recruiting, especially with all the interference from the noble caste."

Wynne made a small gagging noise. "_Recruiting_? That's what you call it?"

"Erm…yes…" Inga frowned. "Forgive me for saying this, but that's the third time one of you has spoken up. What kind of servants are you?"

"Terrible ones," Rowena said quickly. "Which is why we came here, of course. We hope you'll be able to provide higher quality wares."

Inga looked as though she wanted to say something; yet before she could, the party found itself in front of a set of wide stone doors.

"Please, wait here," she said, slightly distracted. "I'll inform Hrani and Valgrind."

With that, she slipped through the doors and left the group standing in silence.

"I don't like this," Eruestan said finally. "I don't know why no one's here."

"'Tis hardly likely that they'd keep their kidnapped victims near the entrance," Morrigan noted. "These men are not foolish."

"Still, you'd think there'd be more signs of a large crowd of people," the elf frowned. "You know, trash dropped in the corners, dirt tracked in, signs of a struggle…instead, there's nothing."

"Maybe they've got a team of janitors?" Rowena suggested.

"In Dust Town?"

"Maybe Inga's an insane neat freak?"

Just then, Inga's head popped through the doors once more, causing Rowena to blush and quickly look away. "Hrani and Valgrind are ready to receive you, Your Majesties," she said calmly. "Ah—_just_ Their Majesties, please," as the rest of the party tried to follow. "Valgrind prefers to keep appointments as personal as possible."

Eruestan started to protest; Alistair, however, swooped his arms broadly and said, "Of course! Why would we want them in there? They are stupid and…and…dumb…"

Inga stared at him for a second, then shrugged. "Whatever. Right this way, please." Each giving reassuring smiles, Rowena and Alistair walked forward into the personal quarters of the Sons for the Sun.

As the stone doors clicked shut behind them, the two monarchs instantly were forced to shut their eyes against the blaring difference in lighting. Torches all along the walls doused the area in light brighter than any they had ever seen underground.

Squinting through the luminescence, Rowena began to make out the figures of two dwarven men standing in the middle of the room. One seemed to be standing resolutely in front of the doors; the other seemed to be pleading with him.

"Val, please don't," the man begged. "It's not worth it."

Valgrind ignored him. "Welcome, Grey Wardens," he said in a strained voice. "I hope you're doing well."

"Other than being slightly blind at the moment, we're great," Alistair said, shielding his eyes. "You?"

"I'm fantastic," the dwarf said shakily. He began to laugh a little. "I hear you wish to make a donation to the cause?"

"Valgrind, just stop, they're not stupid, they'll listen—"

"I don't know what you mean by donation," Rowena said coldly. "But I'm afraid we're not here to perpetuate your little crime ring after all."

"Is that what they're calling it?" Valgrind asked hysterically. "A crime ring? Sounds like something they'd say. They sent you, didn't they? They're always sending people, always."

"The people of Orzammar sent us," Alistair said boldly. "They want you shut down."

"The people of Orzammar don't know what they want!" Valgrind yelled. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "At least, not yet. And they never will if those damn nobles don't stop interfering with our business!"

"Val, you're not yourself," Hrani muttered crazily, tugging on his arm again. "Leave them alone…"

"NO, HRANI!" Valgrind shrieked, tearing his brother's arm away. "I won't leave them alone! Don't you see that they're here to kill us? Don't you see that they're determined to take us out, just because we let that one girl escape?"

"But they've been lied to!" Hrani said pleadingly. "They don't know!"

"Sure, these two might not know, but _they_ know everything, Hrani! _They_ turned our own nephew against us—surely they can turn a few Grey Wardens as well!"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Alistair said warily. "What do you mean, we've been lied to? And what's this about letting some girl escape?"

"If 'escape' is the word for it," Rowena muttered.

"See, Val?" Hrani said hastily. "They'll listen! We can explain! Just calm down and we'll—"

"_I'm not calming down!_" Valgrind's voice seemed to be getting more and more unstable. "I've been through months of having to deal with guards and soldiers breathing over my neck, trying to take me down! Having to go without sleep for days on end, just to make sure no one invades our complex! How can we operate like this? We're a charity group, damn it, not the Legion of the Dead! I'm not going to put up with it anymore, you hear me? NOT ANYMORE!"

Rowena frowned even further. "What do you mean, a charity group?"

Alistair held out his hands. "Look, Valgrind, we're not unreasonable…"

With that, he took a few steps forward.

What happened next happened so quickly no one had a chance to think. With a fierce battle cry, Valgrind pulled a dagger from his clothes and sent it flying at the advancing king. Acting purely by instinct, Rowena gently plucked the flying blade from the air and without thinking sent it flying back toward the dwarf's skull, where it embedded itself firmly in the center of his forehead. For one awful moment, Valgrind's eyes seemed to register what was happening; then they unfocused, and the dwarf collapsed to the ground.

Rowena and Alistair stood as if frozen, staring at the lines of blood pouring from the blade. Hrani, however, began to shake violently.

"V-Valgrind?" he stammered, shuffling towards his brother. "V-Val?" He stared up in shock at the two Grey Wardens. "Y-you killed h-him…I c-can't believe it…y-you k-killed him…"

Rowena's face turned pale white. "I d-didn't mean to," she stumbled. "H-he attacked first!"

"Why did you even come here?" Hrani asked, almost more to himself. "W-why are you here?"

"We n-needed to stop you…"

Her voice trailed off at the look of anguish in Hrani's eyes. "Why did you need to stop us? We were helping people…"

"You were selling them into slavery," Alistair said harshly, wrapping an arm around Rowena. "Most people don't consider that as help."

"What do you mean?" Hrani asked helplessly. "What are you even talking about?"

Alarmed, Alistair began to ask what was going on; however, at that very moment, there was a loud commotion from the corridor outside. Rowena and Alistair both spun around just in time to see King Harrowmont, several nobles, and a small army of guards burst through the stone doors leading into the room. Behind them, the rest of the party was surrounded by even more dwarven guards, all subdued by the mere force of the Royal Guard.

Harrowmont's eyes swept across the office, lingering on the dead dwarf slumped in front of the desk. "Well, I see you've been busy, Grey Wardens," he said coldly.

"Harrowmont," Rowena said faintly, gently breaking free of Alistair's arm. "How nice to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, Grey Warden," he said frigidly. "But seeing as you and your companions have invaded a peaceful charitable organization and killed one of its leaders, I'm afraid my feelings are quite the opposite." He turned to a nobleman standing next to him. "Excellent work, Ressig. If your contact hadn't alerted us right away what was going on, we might be facing a double-homicide."

The nobleman bowed. "I only wish we could have gotten here sooner, sir," he said greasily.

"YOU!" Hrani shrieked, pointing directly at Ressig. "You did this! You sent them!"

Ressig laughed smoothly. "Poor man's delirious," he told the king, who had shot him a curious look. "Shock does that, you know."

"Of course," Harrowmont said sympathetically. "Here, house him in my own quarters in the palace—I'll make sure he receives the rest he deserves."

A small squadron of guards marched forward and pried the grieving man from his brother's corpse, ignoring his screeches and appeals for vengeance against House Ressig.

As Hrani's shouts grew fainter and fainter, Rowena turned slowly towards the dwarven king. "Harrowmont, you have to believe us," she said deliberately. "We came here to help the city."

"Help?" the king asked in disbelief. "You thought you could help us by killing an innocent man? Great Stone, what would you do if you wanted to harm us?"

"We thought they were slavers!" Alistair protested. "We thought we were doing you a favor!"

"Slavers?" Ressig snorted. "Where'd you get that idea?"

Rowena ignored him. "Ask Inga!" she said quickly to Harrowmont. "We made it pretty obvious that we thought something odd was going on—go and ask her!"

The king turned to his men. "Inga?"

"I believe that was the woman we accidentally killed when we stormed this hallway, sir," the guardsman said sheepishly.

"Pity," Harrowmont said smoothly. "So unless anyone else knew about your schemes, Grey Wardens, I'm afraid you're out of—"

"Odyn," someone said from the back; everyone turned around to see Eruestan standing calmly amid a sea of spears. "Odyn Blooddrawer, sir. He's the one who gave us the plan in the first place."

"Odyn Blooddrawer?" the king asked in surprise.

"Yes, sir, Odyn Blooddrawer," Eruestan said respectfully. "Now he might be a little difficult to find, but once you do, I'm sure he'll be able to confirm everything we've told you."

"Oh, I doubt he'll do that," Harrowmont said with a faint smile.

Eruestan frowned. "And why's that, sir?"

"Why?" Harrowmont's smile grew larger. "Why, simply because he was the one who turned you in in the first place."

* * *

Snow whirled through the air as Arlon deChaubliss walked through his camp at the base of the Frostback Mountains. Everywhere around him, men and women sleepily spoke to each other in Antivan, Orlesian, and Anders, all working to put up tents and fix meals. Pulling his robes more tightly around his body, the mage grinned silently to himself. In a few days' time, all these mountains would be his, and the Grey Wardens would be no more.


End file.
